


The Son of the Sheriff

by ToriTC198



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Darach causes problems, Derek is angry a lot, Derek is confused, Detective Derek, Detective Stiles, Kate is a bitch, M/M, Police Officer Derek, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Rogue werewolf causes issues, Slow Build, Stiles is keeping secrets, Torture, Werewolves, cop Derek, cop stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriTC198/pseuds/ToriTC198
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Derek Hale got transferred to Beacon Hills when the NYPD decided he couldn't handle New York anymore. Derek is determined to hate it. When he shows up for work and discovers who is partner is things only get worse. What's more, it becomes clear pretty quickly that this town is hiding something big. Derek wants to know what it is. Slow build Sterek. Detective AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> Well it was suggested to me that I write an AU. So here goes. Also, this work is posted on ff.net under the title "The Sheriff's Son" but there is already a story on AO3 with that title and I didn't want to steal it.

Derek Hale sighed in resignation as he passed the, "Welcome to Beacon Hills," sign. This was it. This small little nothing of a town was going to be his home for the foreseeable future. They had called it a transfer but Derek knew it was more of a time out. They didn't want him working the streets of New York anymore after all that had happened. They didn't trust him not to hunt down the murderer who had taken away his family. They were probably right.

Still, did it have to be a place like Beacon Hills that he got sent to? Why not another big city? He would happily have gone to Seattle or San Francisco or any place big enough to at least have a skyscraper. This place that wasn't even big enough to have more than one Sheriff's Office was going to be the death of him. Except it wouldn't, because nothing as exciting as death would ever happen in a place like this.

Derek resisted the urge to punch his steering wheel or something. He wondered how long he would have to play nice in this crap town before he could file for transfer back to New York. The cop in him was on high alert as he drove. Not because he suspected danger but because that was what he was trained to do. He paid attention to every shady looking building and dark alley he drove past. He kept an eye out for suspicious characters and hapless bystanders. He logged every single detail of this place in his mind. He may not like the place, but he was sure as hell going to do the best job he could of protecting it from whatever it needed help with.

The buildings started to disappear as he turned onto the long road leading through the forest at the edge of town. He felt a little bit more at ease in the trees, he had always liked woods. His mind briefly flashed back to childhood memories of going camping with his family but he quickly dragged himself away from those thoughts. He finally reached the address of his new house and let out an exasperated groan. It was much worse than the pictures had made it seem. This old house looked about ready to fall apart on him and, not for the first time, he wondered why he had chosen to buy a house away from town instead of living in the town. The answer of course was that he didn't want to live in town. He really didn't like the town.

Shutting off his car, Derek eased himself out of the seat. His muscles protested the move and his spine cracked and popped as he forced it into a standing position. Three solid days of driving with only brief stops for food and quick naps was not something his body agreed with. He trudged up to the steps of his new house and with caution he started up to the porch. Every creaking step made him feel like the entire place was going to just give up and collapse on top of him. He made it to the door, pulled out his new set of keys, and slowly opened it. A musty smell filled his nose as he peered in. It was dark and everything was covered in dust. When the ad had called the place a fixer-upper they had not been lying. Broken pieces of wood littered the entry way and the staircase was missing half its banister.

As he walked gingerly through the house he counted three broken windows, twelve holes in the wall, seven mysterious stains and three dozen damaged floorboards. He flipped a light switch in the kitchen and was relieved to see that at least the electricity worked. He soon discovered that water worked too. He was glad to know that the utilities had been turned on when they were supposed to. At least the place was livable. A few coats of paint, some new flooring, and perhaps a complete scrub down were needed but he could make this work.

For a few minutes he just stood staring around him and trying to imagine what this place would look like all fixed up. He had to admit it would look pretty fantastic. It may be falling apart, but the house had clearly been beautiful before it fell into disrepair and Derek was certain it could be beautiful again.

For now though, he had to work on getting moved in. He didn't have much but it still took six trips to his car and back before he had all his boxes in. Most of his belongings had gone up in the same flames that his family had. Again Derek forced his mind away from those thoughts. This was a fresh start; a break from everything that had happened. He could think about the killer some other day when he eventually made it back to New York.

Derek walked through the house again, this time depositing his stuff in the proper rooms. The house had come with most of the furniture still in it (The last owner had left it all behind in a rush to leave town) which was good because Derek really hadn't felt like going couch shopping and he didn't have any furniture of his own. The couch in question was as covered in dust as everything else but it would do. The bed upstairs was equally dusty and he sneezed as a cloud of it floated into the air when he dropped a box on the bed. He brushed the rest the dust onto the floor as best he could and then flopped onto the bed. His hands laced together behind his head and he stared up at the ceiling deciding what to tackle first.

A low rumble made up his mind for him. Food. Food was his first priority. He couldn't remember the last time he had stopped for food on his cross country drive. Derek pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed and reached for the box sitting next to him. He pulled his laptop out of it and glanced around the room until he found an outlet near the desk in the corner of the room. While he waited for the computer to boot up, Derek rifled through the box some more and brought out his bed sheets and a small pile of books. The books went on the nightstand in a haphazard pile and, after another attempt to brush off all the dust; Derek stretched the sheets across his new bed. He didn't feel like a thorough cleaning right now.

Derek returned to the desk and sat down in the old wooden chair. He took a deep breath and hoped that his internet had been set up the day before like it was supposed to be. You never knew with these small town cable companies. He was certain that they would be less reliable than a city company. Still, the Wi-Fi symbol blinked merrily at him from the corner of his screen and he breathed a sigh of relief as he opened a new window.

"Beacon Hills Grocery Store", he typed into the search bar. Big surprise, there was only one in the town. Derek wrote down the address and headed out the door. His body complained to being shoved back into the car it had only recently escaped but Derek just grimaced at the sore muscles and threw the car into reverse.

The store looked inviting enough. That pissed Derek off. He wanted to hate everything about this town. Friendliness was not supposed to be present here. He scowled as he grabbed a cart at the entrance and he frowned when someone greeted him warmly as he passed by.

Twenty minutes later Derek had amassed a wonderful collection of soup cans, frozen meals, and boxes of macaroni. He was just reaching to grab some hamburger helper too when he heard a voice behind him.

"Well if that isn't the shopping cart of a bachelor I don't know what is."

Derek turned swiftly to look at the person who had interrupted his quiet hatred of Beacon Hills. A smiling face met his glare and didn't dim even when Derek made a conscious effort to glare harder. The man in front of him looked to be a few years younger than him, early twenties most likely, and he had bright brown eyes, short brown hair, and a few moles decorating the side of his face and neck. Derek continued to glare as he looked the man over but in the back of his mind he admitted that this man was attractive as hell.

The guy stuck his hand out and exclaimed, "Name's Stiles. I don't know you, which means you must be new. You must be the new detective. I heard you were arriving today. Your name is Derek right?"

Derek nodded briefly and reached his hand out to slowly shake the hand of the rather enthusiastic Stiles. 'Who the hell names their kid Stiles?' he thought.

"I'm glad to finally meet you. You're going to absolutely love Beacon Hills. It's fantastic here. I can show you all the best spots to hang out. I'll tell you where the best food is, the best places to meet people, the best coffee shop in town…" Stiles rambled on.

And that was it. The man was no longer attractive. He was just annoying. Derek pondered the best way to escape from the incessant talking of the younger man. In the end he elected to simply walk away. He pushed the cart to the check-out line and left the store in a hurry.

Derek arrived home and after putting his food away he heated up some soup and after eating his fill he went to bed. His day had been long and tiring so he didn't care that it was only 7 o'clock at night.

\---

Stiles stared after Derek as he went but made no move to follow. 'Well alright then.' He thought to himself. 'Not the most talkative guy. Oh well. Damn he's hot though.' Stiles grinned and then turned around to continue his shopping.

The next morning Stiles got up just a little bit earlier than usual. He practically bounced with excitement before he remembered that bouncing was not very manly. Sometimes he wondered if he had ever actually grown out of his ADD like his doctor claimed. He downed a cup of coffee and got in his beaten up old Jeep to head to work.

When he arrived he greeted Lydia at the front desk and walked back to his office. He tidied his desk up a little bit, wanting it to look impressive and professional. A throat cleared at the door and he glanced up to see his dad standing there looking at him, clearly amused.

"Are you ready for today?" His dad inquired.

"Definitely! I can handle this."

"Remember what we talked about?"

Stiles' face fell a little. "Yeah, dad. I know better than anyone what happens when people get involved with things they shouldn't. I won't tell any secrets."

His dad clapped him on the shoulder briefly, "I know son. This will turn out fine." His dad left then and Stiles stared at his desk for another few minutes.

\---

Derek walked into the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department and was greeted warmly by a woman with fiery red hair. She stood up to shake his hand and asked, "Detective Derek Hale I presume? We're happy to have you here. I'm Officer Martin."

Derek forced a smile as he shook hands with her. She seemed nice enough. He felt claustrophobic in this precinct though. It was less than a third the size of the one he had worked at in New York. Nothing he could do to fix it though so he made himself stand a little taller and smile with a little more charm.

From the corner of his eye Derek saw a man walk out of one of the offices further back in the building. Derek could see the sheriff's badge prominently displayed and the commanding aura the man gave off tempted Derek to snap off a salute but he resisted the urge. The sheriff reached him and shook his hand. Derek was doing a lot of hand shaking lately.

"Detective Hale, good to finally meet you. I'm Sheriff Stilinski. I'm sure you'll fit right in here. Let me start by showing you to your office and introducing you to your partner." Sheriff Stilinski guided him down the hall and right up to the door that he had just recently come out of. "Detective Derek Hale, your new partner Detective Stiles Stilinski."

The first thing Derek felt was annoyance. What was the annoying kid from yesterday doing in his new office? Then he noticed the detective badge and the hesitant smile and the way the sheriff was looking at him expectantly and, shit, this guy was his new partner. Detective Stilinski the sheriff had called him. Sheriff Stilinski… Detective Stilinski… Derek looked between the two men and, yep, he could totally see the resemblance now.

This all happened very quickly in Derek's mind and he willed his face not to show what was going on in his mind. "Detective Stilinski." Derek stated with a brief nod. "It's good to meet you."

"I'll let Stiles here show you the ropes." The sheriff said as he left the room. Apparently the sheriff was the kind of parent who would name his kid Stiles. Who'd have known?

Then Derek made his way to the empty desk in the room and sat down heavily in the chair. Stiles grinned at him in a way that Derek would almost have described as maniacal. Great. Just great. He was stuck in a stupid small town and his stupid new partner was the son of the sheriff. Looking at the young man Derek doubted he even knew how to shoot a gun. He probably only got this job because of his father. Typical. Derek's day was off to a great start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the beginning of my first AU. Let me know. Remember, I can't become a better author without feedback from people who care enough to review.


	2. Something Suspicious

To distract himself from the annoyance of discovering he was working with some idiot with connections, Derek started exploring his new desk. He started by turning on the computer and while he waited for that he checked through the drawers to see what they had given him. Standard amount of paper, plenty of blank forms for various uses, and in the far back corner of the bottom drawer something gleamed at him. Confused, Derek reached back and pulled it out.

A small glass wolf. It was black with bright blue eyes. It stood as if howling at the moon and Derek marveled at how each individual piece of fur fell perfectly. For a brief time he was so entranced that he almost forgot he was supposed to be glaring at everything. He looked questioningly over to Stiles to see if he knew what the wolf was.

"Shit." Stiles muttered when he saw the wolf. "I'm sorry Derek. That belonged to my last partner. I must have missed it when I cleaned out his desk."

"Will he want it back?" Derek asked.

Stiles looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Um… No. I don't imagine he will."

Derek placed the wolf on his desk and shut the desk drawer again. If ex-partner didn't want it back there was no reason Derek couldn't leave it with the desk. It added a nice touch. Stiles was still staring awkwardly at the wolf but Derek ignored him and turned to the computer that had finished starting. "Stilinski. Can you show me how to get logged into the system here?"

Stiles shook himself out of whatever had been happening in his head and replied, "Yeah. It's pretty simple. Username is BeaconPD and the password is Allison."

"Allison?" Derek said slowly with a raised eyebrow.

"That's Scott's fault." Stiles explained. "He was the one in charge of choosing a password and now none of us can figure out how to change it to something else." There was a pause as Derek logged into the system and made sure everything was working properly. "Hey, speaking of Scott, I need to show you around. Introduce you to the rest of the team."

Derek nodded unenthusiastically as he locked his computer and stood up to follow after Stiles. Stiles took him first back to the locker room and the adjoining gym. "This is your locker." Stiles pointed to a locker that had recently had a name scratched off it. Derek made a mental note in the back of his mind to find out later why Stiles had looked sad when he passed the locker. "Through there is the gym. There's not much there." Stiles continued the tour leading him to the cells, the evidence lock-up, the filing room, a meeting room, and finally back to the offices.

Stiles grinned cheerfully as he stuck his head in the first office. "Scott, my man, come meet Derek." From inside the office came a guy who Derek assumed must be Scott. "Scott, this is Detective Derek Hale. Derek, this is Detective Scott McCall." Stiles introduced them and as he said Derek's name he plopped his hand onto Derek' shoulder. The glare Derek gave him could have killed. "Uh, sorry." Stiles hastily removed his hand. "No touching then? I can deal with that."

Scott didn't comment on the exchange, he simply nodded at Derek and started up a conversation. "So, how are you liking Beacon Hills?"

"It's small."

"Well that's true enough. It's part of why I like it here though."

"I don't like small."

Scott looked taken aback and he struggled to find an answer. "Well maybe you'll change your mind if you just give Beacon Hills a chance." Scott finally said. Then he perked up and smiled broadly, "Hey, if you want to get to know some more people my wife Allison and I would be glad to have you over. Allison is wonderful. She alone could convince you to like Beacon Hills." Scott's eyes had gone a little hazy and his voice was dreamy.

Derek fought the urge to throw up. He actually found himself thankful for Stiles all of a sudden when he said, "No, Scott, I will not have you scaring off my new partner on his first day because you can't stop gushing over Allison. Come on, Derek." Stiles turned and walked further down the hall. At the next office he actually went in so Derek followed after and walked into a room with two more guys. "Derek this is Officer Danny Māhealani and Detective Isaac Lahey. Isaac is Scott's partner. He's helping Danny out a bit while his partner Jackson is out." Stiles paused and looked like he was searching for the right words. "Jackson is out sick right now." He finally concluded. "Jackson is a bit of a jerk anyway so you aren't missing much."

"Hey!" The officer named Danny protested. Stiles gave him a look and Danny conceded, "Yeah, you're right. He is a jerk sometimes." Isaac chuckled and continued to fill out some paperwork at what Derek assumed was Jackson's desk.

"Anyway," Stiles stated, "You two seem busy so I'll go introduce Derek to the last two." This time Stiles led him back to the front of the precinct. "Derek, this is Officer Lydia Martin and her partner Officer Erica Reyes. They got stuck with front desk duty today so try to make fun of them as much as possible."

Lydia, the red head from earlier, beamed at Derek while gently elbowing Erica in the side to get her attention. Erica looked up at him with tired eyes and gave a weak smile. "Good to have you here." She intoned before looking back down to the desk.

"You've already met the sheriff, he's my dad," Stiles said with pride. "So that's the whole clan. We're pretty small so we all do pretty much everything. You and I will eventually have to work front desk once in a while too. Everyone pulls their weight. It's not hard; it just means we take in the emergency phone calls and if people show up here directly we help them out. No big deal."

Derek gave what could only be described as a grunt. Stiles assumed that was meant to convey Derek's understanding. "Right. Well, I have a case I'm working on right now so we should get back to our own office. You can finish getting settled in." Stiles headed off in the direction of the office and Derek trailed behind.

"If you have a case doesn't that mean I have a case too?" Derek asked with a tone that implied Stiles was an idiot.

"I guess that's true." Stiles shuffled back and forth on his feet. Derek got the distinct impression again that Stiles was searching for the correct words. In Derek's experience that generally meant you were looking for a valid lie. He would have to keep an eye on Stiles. "You can help me with some of the case. It would just be hard to catch you up to speed at this point so I figured I'd let you pick up on the next new case."

The two had made it back to the office by this point and instead of heading to his own desk he waited next to Stiles'. "So, tell me about the case."

Stiles moved some papers around on the desk and it took a few seconds for him to meet Derek's gaze. When he spoke it was with a voice that seemed much more clinical and detached than the exuberant voice he had been using so far. "There's a guy who's going around attacking people. He's been pretty vicious so far. One person… One person has been killed." Derek didn't miss the slight hitch in Stiles' voice. "A few others have come close. Jackson inclu…" Stiles stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat nervously. "Jackson was the one assigned to the case before he got sick and then it got handed to us."

Something was definitely wrong with the way Stiles had said Jackson was sick. Not to mention that Derek was almost positive Stiles had been about to imply that Jackson had been hurt by the criminal they were after. If a cop had gotten hurt in the line of duty why was Stiles hiding it? There were a lot of questions rising in Derek's mind. Something was off about this whole place. Instead of confronting Stiles, Derek asked, "What do we know about the culprit?"

"Not much. Witness reports say it's a white male with black hair and that's about all we have for a physical description. Attacks happen in the woods mostly or on the edge of them; nothing in town. That's probably why there aren't many witnesses." Stiles pointed to a map that he had laid out on his desk. "Each 'X' is a spot where an attack happened. We haven't found any sort of pattern yet. They seem fairly random. We'll find something though."

"Do you know the motive? Do the victims have anything in common?" Derek felt like he was dragging the information out of Stiles.

"Motive? No, there isn't a motive. Just crime of convenience attacks. The victims have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Derek was certain now that Stiles had only gotten this job because of his dad. It was ridiculous to assume there was no motive at this point. It didn't sound like there was anywhere near enough information to determine that. What mattered was catching the guy though so Derek pulled the map a little closer to him and leaned down to look closer at it.

Grudgingly he had to admit that Stiles was right. There didn't seem to be much pattern to the locations. They were all over the forest. Still, there had to be something. Maybe this, 'Jackson,' would be better able to enlighten Derek on the case since Derek's own partner seemed to be an idiot.

Derek went back to his own desk and got quietly started filling out the paperwork that confirmed he had arrived and started work at his new precinct.

\---

Night had fallen and a full moon shone down on Derek where he stood on the sidewalk. In his hand Derek held a slip of paper with an address on it. He hadn't expected the address to be such a nice place. Cops didn't usually make enough money for that. He supposed Jackson could have gotten family money like Derek himself had. He walked up at the rich white house and was about to knock on the door when he heard a very loud crash inside. It sounded like something, or someone, had been thrown against the wall.

"Jackson! Get ahold of yourself! Find an anchor!" Derek stiffened. That voice, which still sounded annoying even when tinged with anger and panic, was Stiles. Should Derek burst through the door and help his idiot partner? Did Stiles need help? What on earth was happening?

"Come on Officer. I know it's your first moon but you have to control yourself." This voice was much calmer but still sounded stressed out. It also clearly belonged to Sheriff Stilinski.

'First moon?' Derek thought to himself. He glanced up at the moon in the sky above him. 'It's not like the moon popped into existence today. How exactly is this Jackson's first moon?'

"Dad, you didn't bring enough chains!" Now Derek was beyond confused. What the hell would the sheriff and his son need chains for? What were they even doing in Jackson's house talking about the moon and an anchor?

"Guys, he will get more control of this for future shifts right?" This time the voice was female. It was familiar to Derek but he wasn't quite sure who it was.

Thankfully Stiles inadvertently answered Derek's question. "He'll be fine, Lydia. The others are all able to control it, Jackson will be too. It would have been a hell of a lot better for him if he had had a bit more time between being attacked and the full moon though."

Others? What did Stiles mean when he said others? And what did this have to do with the attacks that had been happening?

Finally realizing that standing with his ear pressed against a door that could open at any time wasn't the most subtle move, Derek slowly backed away and towards the sidewalk again. His mind was in overdrive trying to put together all the pieces. What in the hell was going on in this small, stupid, little town? Derek didn't know if he should be even more annoyed at his situation or slightly happier. All he knew was that this town, or at least the police department in it, had a mystery for him to solve. He intended to solve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fun having Derek be in the dark about things.


	3. Dead Body

Stiles wiped the sweat off his face before it had a chance to drip down into his eyes. He looked down at Jackson with relief. Despite the struggles of the new werewolf, the chains appeared to be holding. Jackson was clearly unhappy about it as he snarled and growled at Stiles and his dad, but Stiles couldn’t find it in his heart to care.

He remembered the first time he had done this with Scott; and he actually liked Scott. Jackson being unhappy was barely a blip on his radar compared to having to chain his best friend up like the wild animal he sometimes was.

A flash of movement and red hair from his right told Stiles that Lydia was coming closer. She stood beside Stiles and stared at Jackson with sadness in her eyes. “What am I going to do, Stiles?” She asked.

“The same thing we’ve always done. We take care of them on the full moon until they learn control. We keep them a secret from the world. You specifically should talk to Allison. If anyone would know your position it’s her. She’s the only other one mated to a wolf. From the way she talks, it really isn’t that bad once they get control.”

Stiles had spoken with confidence and authority because he knew it was what Lydia needed to hear. Watching Jackson though, he could understand why Lydia was scared for her future. Stiles felt a fresh surge of anger towards the rogue werewolf that was plaguing Beacon Hills. It had shown up a little over two months ago and in such a short time had taken so much away from their small town.

Jackson had been an idiot really, everyone knew it. He had gone out in search of the rogue wolf alone in a desperate bid for revenge. While the rest of the team armed themselves with wolfs bane bullets and crossbows Jackson had wandered around the woods with a pocket knife and a police standard gun equipped with regular bullets. It was no wonder the guy had gotten attacked; a miracle he hadn’t been killed. Still, despite his lack of good choices no one deserved to get the bite against their will. Jackson would never be the same and neither would poor Lydia as she tried to cope with this new development.

The three humans jumped when the sheriff’s radio crackled to life. “All units we have a 187 behind the High School. I repeat, 187 behind High School.”

Sheriff Stilinski met his son’s eyes with weariness as they both wondered who the wolf had killed this time. The sheriff turned to Lydia and ordered her to stay behind and keep an eye on Jackson. Then Stiles and his dad headed for the squad car waiting in the driveway and after confirming with dispatch that they were on route they headed to the site of yet another murder.

\---

Derek jerked awake to the sound of, “All units we have a 187 behind the High School. I repeat, 187 behind High School.” He groggily looked at the clock and saw that it was 1 in the morning. Fantastic. Maybe keeping his police scanner on at night was not the best for his sleep patterns. He stumbled blearily out of bed and quickly dressed before heading into town and to the High School he had seen the other day.

\---

The sheriff and Stiles were the first on the scene with the exception of Scott and Isaac who appeared to be the ones who had found the body. Scott looked at the two when they arrived and quickly walked to intersect them. “Sir,” He addressed the sheriff, “this isn’t the same thing we’ve been dealing with.”

“So what is it?” Sheriff Stilinski inquired.

Stiles didn’t want to wait for an answer; instead he ducked around Scott and headed straight for the body. As he neared he was relieved to see the face didn’t look familiar to him but that was about the only relief he got. As he neared the body he saw the pool of blood fanning out from them and he could tell with just a glance that Scott was right. This was not their resident rogue werewolf. This was something that could be much worse.

The most obvious cause of death was the crushed in skull. Upon closer inspection more signs were visible. A thin wire dug into the flesh of the neck cutting through deep enough to sever the arteries along the throat. Dark purple bruises stood out, visible even through all the blood, as clear signs of strangulation too. Stiles felt sick to his stomach just looking at the body sprawled in front of him. Whoever had done this was most assuredly not a werewolf. It also wasn’t the way the Argent’s dealt with rogue wolves so Stiles concluded that this was not in fact their local rogue brought down by hunters.

When Stiles tore his gaze away from the poor dead guy he was startled to find Derek across from him glowering at the world. “You didn’t need to come in for this. You’re not even on duty right now.”

“Neither are you.”

Stiles laughed bitterly. “I’m always on duty.”

Derek made no comment about that but he did change the topic quite well. “I haven’t looked enough at the reports of your recent attacks yet. Is this the same as the previous attacks or has he changed his pattern?”

“No. This is completely new. It has nothing to do with the other guy.”

Derek’s face got even darker for a moment and he made an odd sound as if he was fighting not to yell, but the moment passed and Derek just walked away to talk to the sheriff. Stiles turned back to the body and started helping Isaac look for some clue as to the identity of the new enemy in town. Stiles could not put into words how much he hoped this enemy was just some crazy serial killer and not another brush with the supernatural.

\---

When Stiles arrived at the office the next morning, after a lovely two hours of sleep, Derek was already there. More specifically he was at Stiles’ desk looking through Stiles’ case notes. “Hey! Hale! Do those look like they were inviting you to look at them?” He asked snatching them away.

Derek leveled a glare at him, Stiles was glad to note that Derek’s glares were slightly less effective now as he got more used to them. “I was trying to do my job. Is that a problem with you?”

“You don’t need to worry about the old attacks. Focus on the one last night. What do we have so far on that?”

“Nothing new since last night. No evidence left behind, just a dead body. Sheriff identified the guy as Jacob Carter, a senior at the High School. Coroner is still working on the autopsy. Since we have no new evidence yet from last night I was trying to identify a connection between the attacks.”

“There isn’t one.”

Derek looked at him as if he was the stupidest person on the planet. “A very violent murder happens right in the midst of very violent attacks and murders that have been occurring regularly for two months and you automatically assume they aren’t linked? Shouldn’t you at least consider the possibility?”

“I don’t need to. They aren’t linked. One is vicious yet random attacks that always occur in or near the woods and this new one was a calculated murder that took place in town. I can guarantee that it is not the same person.”

“That’s exactly the sort of detective work I expected from you.” Derek muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Stiles was getting angry now. He knew he couldn’t blame Derek for not understanding, but couldn’t he just trust that Stiles had been working the case long enough to know what he was talking about?

Derek stood up from the desk and despite their almost identical height he seemed to tower over Stiles. “You heard what I said, Stilinski.” His voice dripped with irritation and disgust. “Do you even know how to work a case? From what I’ve seen you just make assumptions about killers and refuse to do the leg work to actually investigate. Yesterday you told me that there was no motive on the attacks, today you assure me that the violent occurrences are in no way connected. There is always a motive. And, especially in a small town like this, the chances of two violent psychopaths are remote yet you won’t even consider that they might be the same. It’s lazy work. So, if you want to just live off your dad’s skills and reputation that’s fine with me but do not interfere with me when I try to actually do my job.”

Stiles gaped at him not sure if he should be furious or just offended. His dilemma was answered quickly when Derek tacked on one last afterthought. It wasn’t even said to Stiles; in fact if was said so quietly that Stiles figured Derek hadn’t meant him to even hear it. “Why would anyone even take this job if they aren’t going to take it seriously? Stupid idiot probably only took it because it was easy. Bet he’s never actually worked for it or cared about it.”

A hundred memories flew through Stiles head at once as he remembered exactly what he was doing in this office of his. Stiles snapped. “Look, asshole, just because my methods are different than yours doesn’t make me wrong. I’m not stupid and I happen to know this town a whole hell of a lot better than you. I care more about this town and its people than you ever will and I will do everything in my power to protect them. And regardless of whatever conclusions you seem to have jumped to, I earned my job here with hard work. This job has never been easy for me and you don’t have a damn clue what got me into law enforcement. You barely know me and yet you act like you know my entire life story. Use your superior detective skills to figure out that just because you don’t like Beacon Hills doesn’t make everyone in it an idiot and it doesn’t make us your enemies.” For a second, a flash of pain crossed Stiles’ face and he added almost sadly, “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

Then his face returned to fury and Stiles turned on his heel and stormed out of their office. As he crossed the hallway and fumed into Scott and Isaac’s office he pretended he didn’t see their looks of pity. Damn werewolf hearing. Actually, now that Stiles thought about it, there was a good chance he had been yelling loud enough for even the humans in the precinct to hear. This was confirmed when Erica’s face popped around the door frame, “You okay, Batman?” She wondered.

Stiles sank into a free chair and sighed. “Yeah, I’m good. I just really wanted to get along with this guy. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to keep secrets and still work well with him. Still, having a partner who doesn’t like me is infinitely better than what happened last time.” At the mention of his last-partner Stiles heard a sharp intake of breath. He winced internally; he hadn’t meant to bring him up to Erica. She had only recently come back to work and clearly she was barely getting by. He looked up to apologize but she was gone.

\---

Derek stared after Stiles’ retreating back. He didn’t know how to respond. He was also embarrassed to admit that Stiles was right. Derek knew practically nothing about the guy and had just sat around making assumptions. Assumptions that were laced with the bias he had towards a town he didn’t want to be stuck in. Sure, the guy was clearly keeping secrets, but that didn’t mean anything in regards to Stiles’ ability to solve a case. Derek didn’t have all the facts that Stiles did and for all he knew Stiles was completely reasonable in concluding that there was no connection in the cases. Beyond that, clearly he had hit a nerve when he said the guy had only joined the force because it was easy. It seemed like he had actually hurt Stiles with that assumption.

He was going to have to apologize to the idiot. Derek glared at Stiles’ desk just because he could.


	4. Sticky Notes

Stiles left Scott's office when it was made abundantly clear that Scott was trying to cheer him up by talking about Allison. So as he blocked out Scott's inane chatter, he made up his mind to head down to the basement where the shooting range was. He couldn't think of a better way to let out his frustration at the entire situation.

He made the trek down the dark and rather dirty stairs and made his way into the shooting range. Just the smell of the room calmed him down a little. It smelled familiar; like he was somewhere uncomplicated where he didn't have to worry about the issues of his life. Here Stiles could bleach the image of the mutilated body from his mind. Here he wasn't concerned with werewolves or attacks, grumpy new partners or memories that still haunted him. Here Stiles was just Stiles. He was in his element and there was no gray area to navigate or mysteries to solve.

Grabbing ear plugs and goggles, Stiles pulled out his handgun and shut out the world. The anger and the indignation bled away as each shot rang out in the room. In their wake they left just confusion and sadness. After emptying three clips into the target, Stiles dropped the still hot gun on the counter and tore out his earplugs. He let his body slide down the wall until he was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into space and fought to hold back the hysterics that sought to claim him.

Anger was better he decided. Anger stopped him from thinking too hard about his life. It stopped him from recalling the things better left hidden. More importantly anger had helped him focus so that his life felt a little less out of control for a brief moment. Stiles let out a sound that was almost a laugh but sounded more like a sob when it occurred to him that maybe he should thank Derek for being such a dick. Who would have thought that some asshole strolling in acting like he was better than everyone would be such a good distraction?

\---

Derek sat in the office for twenty minutes or so before he angrily stood up. He wasn't even sure anymore who he was angry at. Mostly himself. However when Derek got mad he exuded an aura of anger that seemed to be directed at everyone at once so sometimes even Derek got confused about who the anger was actually towards.

He stalked to the front of the station and practically demanded to know where Stiles was. Danny, who was apparently on desk duty that day, didn't even react to the hostility coming off Derek in waves. Instead he answered, "I don't know. Maybe if you hadn't insulted him you wouldn't have lost him. What I do know is that when you find him, you should try to actually get to know the guy. I don't care if you like Scott, Isaac, Jackson or the Sheriff; I don't even care if you like me, but Stiles deserves a partner who respects and likes him. If you can't deliver that then you and I are going to have some issues." With that, Danny turned his back on Derek and resumed the paperwork he had been doing when Derek stormed in.

Derek stood frozen for a moment. Danny's words had effectively cooled off the remaining anger Derek had harbored and now more than ever he wanted to apologize to Stiles. "Would you know where he was if I told you I was trying to apologize to him?"

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"And will it be a good apology that actually makes Stiles realize that you mean it?"

Derek was silent. He honestly didn't know. Instead of answering properly he said, "I'm not good at apologies."

Danny sighed, "He's probably in the basement. He goes down there to shoot when he gets stressed out."

Derek almost said thank you, but he wasn't good at thank you's either so instead he just nodded his acknowledgement and left.

He slowly walked down the steps, wondering as he went whose job it was to clean them, and opened the door to the shooting range. He stopped in the doorway when he saw that Stiles was indeed in the room. Derek stared for a moment as he tried to reconcile his image of Stiles as a young and slightly idiotic detective with the man he saw in front of him. Stiles stood with perfect form and even better aim. One shot after another rang out and each bullet found its target as Stiles expertly ejected the case and shot off another round.

For the first time, Derek truly considered that perhaps his new partner actually had some talent. Maybe, this annoying kid had more to him than just being the son of the sheriff. Derek found himself mesmerized by the precision and grace that Stiles moved with. There was only one word Derek could really use to sum it up. In that moment, Stiles was beautiful.

As the last echoes of gunfire faded, Derek started to approach Stiles, fully intending to give an apology. One that he suspected may be a whole lot more sincere than he had originally thought. Stiles' actions halted him though. Stiles hadn't noticed Derek and instead of heading towards the door he appeared to crumble against the wall. The strong powerful man from just seconds ago turned instantly into a broken looking one. His arms curled around his legs and his face was buried in his arms. Derek was at a loss; he had no idea if he should approach Stiles or let him be. When an anguished sound halfway between a sob and a laugh tore out of Stiles' throat Derek decided to quietly leave the boy in peace.

Derek quietly returned to his office. His mind was reeling with all these new images if Stiles. This almost stranger who had seemed so carefree and naïve was starting to change in Derek's mind. He resolved then that despite disliking Beacon Hills, he wouldn't hate its people. Stiles was a mystery in every sense of the word and Derek yearned to solve him. _Needed _to solve him. More importantly, Derek felt an inexplicable desire to never hear that broken sound come from Stiles' lips again. Instead he wanted to see the confidence and power that he had seen as Stiles peppered the target with bullets.__

\---

Stiles didn't come back upstairs for almost an hour. When he finally did Derek was gone. What Stiles found instead was a small yellow sticky note with the words, "I'm sorry. – Derek"

A small smile crept onto Stiles face and he pulled a blank sticky note out of his own desk. On it he wrote, "I forgive you. – Stiles" And he stuck the note on Derek's computer screen. After a brief second of thought, he decided to add a second note. Stiles recalled Derek accusing him of only joining the force because it was easy and Stiles wasn't the sort of person to just let a misconception stand. He wanted to correct Derek's view of him. "It was for my mom by the way. I joined the force after she died so that I could try to make sure no other child ever had to watch their mom get murdered. - Stiles"

What Stiles hadn't expected was for those two sticky notes to start something between Derek and him. When Stiles arrived at work the next day he had found another note, this time on his keyboard. On it was scrawled, "I may have judged you unfairly."

Stiles looked across the room at Derek where he sat hunched over his own desk. The amount of effort Derek put into trying to look like he had nothing to do with the note was almost amusing. In truth, it touched Stiles with a hint of sadness. He wondered what in Derek's life had made him unable to admit these sorts of things out loud. Stiles made the decision to respect the fact that Derek clearly didn't want to talk in person about anything so with sticky notes and silence they formed a strange friendship.

"Everyone makes mistakes. I'm sorry too for not telling you everything I know about the case. I get why you're frustrated at me for that. – Stiles"

"Does that mean if I asked again you would tell me more? – Derek"

"No. Now we have a new case to work on. I can finish off the old one. – Stiles" Stiles noticed the distinct frown on Derek's face when he read that note.

"Will you at least tell me if there have been any more attacks? – D"

"None. It's been quiet lately. – S"

"How are the people doing that got attacked? – D" Derek stared in confusion at Stiles as he read the note. Stiles looked crushed for a moment and then he had stood up abruptly saying he was going for an early lunch. Derek quickly jotted down a second note for Stiles to find.

"I'm sorry for whatever I said wrong. – D"

"No. Don't apologize. It's just that I knew a few of the people who got attacked. I knew the one who died. He was my partner. Boyd. He was a good man. – S" Until that note, Stiles hadn't realized that he was just like Derek with these notes. Both of them were using them to say the things they couldn't voice out loud.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. Losing people isn't easy. – D" Stiles audibly gasped when he read it. It was the first time Derek had used his name. For once he was 'Stiles,' instead of, 'Stilinski,' and it felt amazing to finally be just Stiles.

\---

Stiles stared at his computer screen with displeasure. He had finally come across an answer to one of the many questions they had about the murder and it wasn't good. More specifically it wasn't one he could share with Derek. The mysterious way the man had been killed was apparently a three-fold death. Also known as a sacrifice. The sort that involved magic. Magic of course falling into the category of things that he couldn't talk to his partner about. At least he couldn't be completely open about it.

Stiles cleared his throat to get Derek's attention. "So, I've got something." Derek stared at him in what Stiles assumed was a signal to continue. "This murderer, I think they may have been going for a sacrifice. They may actually believe in that sort of thing."

"So we're dealing with a crazy person?"

"Most likely. Yeah." Well it wasn't a lie. The person probably was crazy. That didn't mean they weren't actually magic. Stiles made a mental note to talk to Deaton. Deaton knew about magic.

"Well at least it's a starting point. I was getting really sick of dead ends."

\---

Jackson had come back a few days ago and Stiles was starting to notice that Derek acted strangely around him. Granted most people did because Jackson was kind of a jerk, but Derek was just being downright weird. He was practically stalking the guy through the building at times as if he was trying to catch him doing something. What he thought he would catch Jackson doing was a mystery.

Stiles was actually pretty proud of Jackson and the way he was handling his new werewolf powers. Even though he was constantly mad at people, he didn't seem to lose control much. There had been a few times that Stiles thought perhaps he'd seen a flash of yellow in Jackson's eyes or a slightly pointier tooth but for the most part he remained completely human. Stiles was almost positive that Derek hadn't noticed any of the wolf moments Jackson had.

\---

Derek had noticed some strange things around Jackson. Twice he had been positive that his eyes changed color when he got mad. Once he had lifted a full filing cabinet when he thought no one was looking. Neither of these things was even close to normal. What was worse was that Stiles clearly knew what was happening. He had been standing right next to Jackson one of the times his eyes had changed and he hadn't even reacted.

Derek found himself quite enjoying the strange written friendship he and Stiles had struck up and he didn't want to ruin it by calling Stiles out on what was happening but he was getting tired of not knowing.

Before he left work he left a note that said, "Whatever is going on in this town, I promise I can handle it. I need you to trust me, Stiles. – D"

All he got back was, "I'm sorry, Derek. I can't. – S"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're starting to actually communicate! Progress!


	5. Too Many Problems

Derek sighed heavily as he climbed into the patrol car next to Stiles. Stiles started the car and together the two headed off to another dead body. The call had at least come in during daylight hours this time so that was a bonus, but really could anything be considered good about a person losing their life? This new body brought the total to three murders in town. Stiles was still adamant that none of them had to do with the attacks near the woods. Derek found himself starting to believe Stiles; from what Stiles had shared with him about the attacks they seemed completely different from the murders. Granted, Stiles wouldn't share much. Derek felt like he was playing a game he didn't know the rules for and he had no idea how he was going to help his partner solve attacks that he knew next to nothing about. Stiles of course just kept telling him to forget about the attacks and focus on the murders instead.

The second body had been a college student home for the summer, no known connections with the first victim yet. This third body had already been identified as the captain of the swim team at the high school. Again, no connections had been made yet to either of the first two bodies. They pulled into the parking lot of the bank and got out, the silence heavy between them. The crime scene tape was already surrounding the bench outside the bank and Jackson was there talking to the person Derek assumed must have found the body.

Stiles visibly suppressed a shudder as they looked on the remains of the teenager. Another caved in skull paired with a wire cutting into the arteries on his neck and bruises standing out against the too pale skin of his throat. Derek had a crazy desire to shield Stiles from the sight as they neared but he shook it off. Stiles was already crouched down next to the body staring intently at it as if the body itself would rise up and tell them who killed him. A brief furrowing of Stiles brows told Derek that Stiles had seen something that piqued his interest.

Careful not to disturb any evidence, Stiles moved a bit closer to the corpse's hand. After staring for a moment he stood up abruptly and turned to Derek. "Purity ring on his hand."

Derek wasn't sure if he was supposed to understand that or not so he just kept staring at Stiles waiting for him to explain.

"Remember when we talked to the family of the first kid? We were trying to find out if he had any enemies and they said, 'No, he never really had anyone at all. He didn't have friends. He never even had a girlfriend.' I bet you he was a virgin too."

Stiles grinned at him as if this should make some sense to him. Slowly, Stiles realized that Derek wasn't getting what he was trying to say and an exasperated look crossed his face. "Derek, it's the first connection we've had in the case. The first and the third bodies were both virgins. It's a link. I bet you the second victim was too."

For a moment Derek considered that maybe Stiles was crazy. Then he stopped long enough to actually think about what Stiles was saying. "Stiles, you may be on to something. If we think about the fact that whoever is doing this seems to think they're enacting sacrifices then it could make complete sense that they would go after virgins. A lot of sacrificial ceremonies demanded virgins. This guy really is crazy."

Stiles beamed at him. "We finally have something." He exclaimed. "I was starting to really worry about this case. The guy leaves no evidence behind and we had no motive at all, now we finally have a starting point."

"We need to find out if the second victim really was a virgin."

\---

Derek and Stiles sat in their office poring over the files containing everything they had found out about the second victim. "Cassidy Williams," Stiles read aloud, "19 years old and a freshman at University of California, Berkley campus. Parents reported that she was a star student with a full ride scholarship. Popular and liked by everyone. Had a long term girlfriend." Stiles' face fell when he got to that part. "So, not a virgin."

"Long term girlfriend, yes. Also long distance." Derek stated with what could almost count as a grin. "Stiles, her and her girlfriend met online and had never actually met in person. It's not conclusive evidence that she hadn't ever had sex, but it's a high possibility."

Stiles smiled and looked up at Derek. "So we finally have something?"

"I think so." It felt good to finally see even a tiny bit of progress in the case. Derek was tired of seeing bodies. Beacon Hills was supposed to be his vacation from the violence of New York. So far, it had contained an awful lot of violence all its own.

The phone rang then interrupting their small moment of triumph. Stiles answered. "Stilinski. Yes. No." Stiles face paled. "Another one? I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up with a shaky hand and stood up slowly. His face was turned down, looking at his desk as he took a deep breath. "Derek," he began, looking up at Derek's questioning face. "I have to go. I'll be back soon."

"What?" Derek's voice was loud and mad. He was not in the mood for more secrets. "Stiles, what's going on?"

Stiles flinched at the obvious anger and confusion in Derek's voice. "I'm sorry, Derek." He whispered. "I can't share this with you."

Derek stood up then, clenching his fists to ease the hurt that flared up in him. "Stiles, I'm your partner. I'm supposed to protect you and have your back. How can I do that if you won't let me?" Stiles didn't answer; instead he turned and walked towards the door without even a glance back to Derek. Derek knew it was useless to follow him, he had tried once before and Sheriff Stilinski had appeared out of nowhere to stall him long enough for Stiles to get out. Acknowledging the losing battle Derek controlled his temper and called out, "Stiles." Stiles paused but did not turn. "Be safe." Stiles nodded slightly and left.

\---

Stiles walked out the door of the station and got into his car. As he shut the door he gave a brief nod to Scott and Isaac, they were headed out to the woods to track the scent of the rogue wolf from where it had attacked. Stiles took a moment to collect himself before shifting into drive and heading to the hospital. He arrived, flashed his badge, and entered the room of Emily Ramirez. "Miss Ramirez, I am Detective Stilinski. Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me about your attack?"

Emily was a pretty girl, long black hair and ebony skin framed her face. A long strip of white gauze taped across her cheek was the only outward sign of what she had been through but Stiles suspected more wounds lay underneath the hospital sheet. Emily looked at him with eyes that still held fear and her voice quivered as she answered him, "Yes. I can answer whatever you need me to."

Stiles smiled at her in a reassuring way. "Thank you. Can you tell me what you remember?"

Emily spoke quickly as if getting the words out would be easier if she said it fast. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. "Not much. I was out for a jog and I got tackled from behind. After that there was just a lot of pain. He must have had knives or something and he just kept cutting me. I screamed and I must have been close enough to other people that they heard me. I could hear someone else running towards us and I guess the guy must have heard them too because he was suddenly gone and then the next thing I remember I was in the ambulance."

Stiles nodded, "This may seem like an odd question, but did your attacker bite you at any point in the attack?"

"No. Why? Has that happened before? Does this guy go around biting people?" There was a note of panic to her voice now.

Hiding his sigh of relief, Stiles interrupted her, "What's important is that you survived and are safe now."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Can you tell me what direction your attacker went in?"

"Well I didn't see him leave, but it sounded like he climbed up into the trees and started jumping through them. I think he was heading north."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Ramirez. That's all the questions I have for now. You're safe here." Stiles gave one last encouraging smile and then left. The second he was back in his car he pulled out his phone and dialed his dad.

"This is Sheriff Stilinski."

"Dad, it's me."

"Stiles, what did she say?"

"She didn't get bit. We're okay on that front. But dad, she said the wolf went up into the trees after the attack. Scott and Isaac are probably tracking the wrong trail. They're tracking the path he took to get to the attack location, not the path he took to escape."

"Understood. Stiles, I will call them and tell them to try to trace the rogue through the trees. You report back to the station."

"All due respect Sir, I can't do that. The wolf was heading north which means he was continuing along the jogging path. Someone else could be being attacked right now. I can get there faster than Scott and Isaac can right now."

"Stiles…"

"You know I'm right. Don't give me special treatment just because I'm your son."

A silence followed on the other end then a heavy sigh. "Stiles, I want you to search for more victims along the path but do not go further into the woods. Scott and Isaac will be on their way to you. Don't do anything stupid. Remember, you don't have a partner to back you up right now."

"Understood."

Stiles screeched out of the parking lot with his lights and siren on; time was of the essence and the faster he could get to the woods the better. It was only about an eight minute drive and when he arrived Stiles threw himself from the cruiser without bothering to even shut the door behind him. His mind kept flashing pictures of Boyd's mangled body when he had found it. Stiles swore he wouldn't let that happen to anyone again. He tore down the jogging path, eyes raking both sides looking for any sign of struggle or blood. After about five minutes he reached the spot Emily had been found. Her blood was still pooled at the side of the path, finger nail marks dug into the dirt as Emily had tried to escape.

Stiles swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat and he kept going. Another five minutes passed before Stiles saw a movement off to his right. He pulled his gun quickly from is holster and aimed toward the indication of life. A brief glimpse of glowing blue eyes and then the wolf turned and ran. Stiles gave chase, heading straight into the woods. In his mind he tried to remember if his gun had wolfsbane bullets in it right now or regular ones. He couldn't recall if he had switched them or not.

The trees grew thicker around him as he ran and the light filtering through the tree tops got dimmer. Stiles stopped running, turning around in a circle with his gun still held out in front of him. He had lost sight of the wolf. His eyes strained in the poor light to catch some movement, a glimpse of fur or glowing eyes. He saw nothing.

Suddenly there was a sound behind him and he turned to find a very large werewolf bearing down on him. He squeezed the trigger twice before the wolf reached him. Then there was just the sickening thud as his body was forced to the ground and the burning pain as claws raked across his shoulder. As his body went into shock he thought, 'Guess they were regular old lead bullets.'

\---

"Derek, stop pacing. Just go home." Danny's voice said.

Derek looked up at him with annoyance. "Would you be able to go home if Jackson was missing?"

"I'm sure Stiles is fine. He didn't go anywhere dangerous."

Derek rounded on the officer and with a deadly voice he growled, "You know where he got called to?"

Danny had the decency to look guilty. "Yeah. I guess I should have known that you wouldn't know."

"Tell me where he is."

"I can't do that. It's not my place to say. All I can tell you is that Stiles didn't go anywhere dangerous. He was just going to talk to a witness."

Derek almost grabbed the guy and shook him by the shoulders. "A witness to what?" He demanded instead. "Was there another murder? Another attack?"

"Just trust me when I say Stiles is safe."

Derek looked hard at Danny, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. Satisfied at last that Stiles was probably fine, Derek instead turned his anger towards Stiles. Stupid Stiles who kept lying to him about important things. Stiles who he had stayed late at work for because he was worried about him. Derek scrawled, "You're an idiot." on a sticky note, stuck it to Stiles' desk, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the precinct.

He arrived home faster than he should have and he realized belatedly that perhaps he had not followed the speed laws. Too late to do anything about it now. He stomped up the stairs to his front door and flung it open. He had a brief moment to wonder why the light was on in his front room before he was writhing on the floor as his body was pumped with 50,000 volts of electricity from the Taser he'd just been shot with. Through the pain he could vaguely hear a voice saying, "Welcome home, Der. I missed you."

Then he felt the merciful blackness of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm terrible to the characters and to you guys. It's not only a cliffhanger, it's a double cliffhanger. I won't leave you wondering for long though, I'll have another update soon.
> 
> As always, I LOVE reviews.


	6. Bloody and Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture in this chapter.

Stiles woke up with a strangled scream on his lips. He bolted straight off Deaton's table and was halfway to the door before he really took in his surroundings. Deaton was standing next to the table holding a bloody cloth, clearly having been in the middle of cleaning Stiles' wounds. His dad was in a chair against the wall and Scott was asleep in the chair next to him.

Still breathing heavily as he tried to calm his racing heart, Stiles started to notice the pain. Deaton walked cautiously over to him and gently directed him back to the examination table all while reassuring him that he was safe. Stiles obligingly hopped back up on the table and let Deaton resume cleaning and stitching the gouges running from his shoulder to the middle of his back.

"What happened?" He rasped to his dad.

"You were an idiot is what happened." His dad replied with a glare. "I gave you orders not to go further into the woods. You were just supposed to scan the area. What the hell were you thinking?" Stiles looked down at his feet trying to shove down the sudden feelings of guilt. "You're lucky I called Scott and Isaac the instant I got off the phone with you. If they had gotten there just a few seconds later you would either be dead or a werewolf right now. How could you be so irresponsible?"

Quietly Stiles answered, "I just got thinking about Boyd and I wanted so badly to catch the guy who did it."

Sheriff Stilinski let out a sigh and the anger seemed to leave him in an instant. "I know son. I know." After a few minutes of tension filled silence the sheriff spoke again. "Am I going to have to take you off this case, Stiles? You're the best I've got and you know more about werewolves than probably any other person under my command but if you can't handle this you need to let me know."

Stiles finally met his dad's eyes and for a second there was panic and fear burning in him at the thought of being taken off the case. Then he sat up straighter and informed his father confidently, "No sir, I can handle this. I won't let my emotions take over like that again."

"Good. I expect you back at work tomorrow. I'll make sure you and Derek are on desk duty so you don't have to worry about your injury. Can't have you take the day off to rest or Derek might suspect something."

"Dad…About Derek…He already suspects something. He has absolutely no idea what, but it's not like I can hide from him the fact that he's missing out on some crucial information."

"Just as long as he doesn't ever connect the dots we'll be fine. I've lost enough good men to this supernatural crap I don't want to put more in danger."

Stiles nodded.

"You're all done." noted Deaton's voice from behind him. "You need to be careful for the next few days with it so you don't pull out the stitched but it will heal just fine."

Hopping back off the vet's table Stiles gingerly moved his shoulder a little, testing the pain and stiffness of it. His dad held a shirt out to him and he shrugged it on as carefully as he could. Stiles turned to Deaton, "Thanks. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Maybe you'd actually go to a hospital for once when you need it instead of asking a vet for medical help on humans." Deaton replied with a pointed look.

Stiles grinned sheepishly at him, "I'm sorry. I know this isn't your area. But werewolf attacks aren't exactly hospital territory either."

"You're right, but someday you're going to get hurt badly enough that you need a real doctor."

"And on that day I will drag my ass to the hospital."

Deaton smiled and they exchanged a brief hug. Stiles looked at Scott who was still asleep in the chair against the wall. He made a move to go wake Scott up but Deaton shook his head. "Leave him. He's pretty worn out. I'll bring him a blanket and let him sleep here."

The sheriff stood up then and gestured Stiles out the door. Together they drove home to get what sleep they could before work.

\---

Derek woke up to the sound of pacing feet in front of him. He forced himself not to make any movement that would indicate he was awake yet. Instead he focused on analyzing his condition. He was sitting in what had to be the most uncomfortably hard chair in the world. His hands were tied together behind his back; his shoulders ached from the strain of being held in the unnatural position for far too long. His legs were tied down firmly to the chairs legs so he couldn't move them an inch. Every muscle in his body felt sore from the electrical current that had pounded through him but he couldn't feel any other injuries except the rope burn around his wrists.

Without even lifting his head to confirm his suspicions, Derek spat out the name, "Kate."

"Oh good, you're awake!"

Definitely Kate. Derek fought the urge to snarl at her. Instead he lifted his head and met her gaze with a glare that communicated all his hatred for her. Her eyes danced with glee and she stopped her pacing so she could kneel down in front of him, closer to his eye level.

"And how is poor Derek feeling?" She inquired with a smirk. Kate leaned closer to him and brought her mouth right up against his ear. Derek strained to put some distance between them but the best he could do was tilt his head away from hers. This did little good when she just moved right along with him. "You know I was surprised when you ran away." She whispered in his ear.

Derek did snarl at her then. "I didn't run."

Kate pulled back, a teasing smile on her lips. "No? Well whatever you call it, I certainly didn't expect you to leave New York. You should have known I'd come after you." Kate stood up again, backing up a few paces so she could look around the house. "This is a nice place you found here. Beacon Hills." She pronounced the town's name like it was a particularly ugly bug on her shoe. "I didn't like having to chase you across the entire country, Derek. It was a bit of a hassle." Her face dropped into a pout at the words and Derek noticed a gleam of anger behind the playful tone.

"I didn't exactly choose the place with the intention of you following." He ground out through clenched teeth.

"Well, that was an oversight on your part. It should have been obvious really. When you found me covered in their blood you rejected me. I don't take rejection well, Derek. I was pretty certain I had made myself clear when I told you that if I couldn't have you, no one could. I'm here to ensure that."

Kate drew near him again and, just in time to brace for the pain, Derek saw the glint of a dagger in her hand. She dragged it across his chest, cutting deep into the muscle and tissue. Derek bit back a cry as he tried desperately to recoil from the sharpness of the blade. The chair left no room to escape though and Kate only laughed at his attempts.

"Squirming will only make it worse, Der." She cheerfully told him as she drew another bloody line across his abdomen. Then her attention switched to his face and she tore the dagger along his cheek, a shallower cut this time but still painful. "So tell me, Derek." She hissed. "Is there anyone in this shit town that I should know about? Because if I need to kill more people I will. I want it completely understood that you belong to me."

For a baffling moment Derek thought about Stiles' laugh and he felt a deep protective urge well up inside him at the thought of Kate anywhere near the man. Derek didn't show any of it on his face, certain that Kate really would kill anyone he dared mention. Instead he remained silent and continued to glare at her. She dropped the knife beside her with a small grin.

"No matter. I don't intend to keep you alive long anyway so it's not like there's much chance of you returning to anyone out in Beacon Hills." Kate spoke as she slowly wandered to the back of Derek's chair. She ran her hand through his hair in an almost caress and she bent her head to drop a brief kiss on his neck before she viciously tore his left arm out of its socket. Derek screamed.

\---

Stiles glanced at his watch again and let out a frustrated groan. Front desk was a boring enough job on a regular day, it was even worse when Derek hadn't shown up. Hearing his groan, Danny emerged from his office and approached Stiles.

"He's still not here, huh?" Danny asked.

"Not even a phone call to say he's sick." Stiles answered.

"Weird. With how worried he was about you yesterday I figured he'd be here extra early this morning and instead he isn't here at all."

A look of shock crossed Stiles' face as he turned to Danny, "He was worried about me?"

Danny gave him a knowing smile. "Yeah. Took me forever to convince the guy that you were safe and he needed to get home." Danny's look changed to a slightly accusing one as he added, "Of course I found out later you weren't actually safe."

Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unconsciously reaching to his shoulder, and he shot Danny an apologetic look. Meanwhile the gears started turning in his head. Derek hadn't missed a single day of work in the month since he arrived. He had even worked overtime without complaint. Missing work at all was out of character, even more so if he had really been worried about Stiles.

Stiles shot to his feet, ignoring the flash of pain across his back, and he strode to his dad's office leaving Danny behind gaping at him in confusion.

"Dad, something's wrong with Derek."

The sheriff didn't even look up. "I'm sure he's fine, Stiles. Just because he didn't make it in to work doesn't mean a disaster happened." When the sheriff did look up and saw the panic in his son's eyes he gently said, "Stiles, I know you've been through a lot, but you can't start seeing monsters around every corner. Beacon Hills has more than its share of issues but Derek isn't involved in any of them. He's fine."

For a few seconds Stiles pondered his dad's words. Maybe he was just overreacting because of all the horrid things he had seen. Maybe Derek had just forgotten to call, or he had overslept, or any other completely mundane reason. The more he pondered it though the more certain he became that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

To his dad he said, "Yeah. You're right." Then he stalked back out of the room. He found Danny still at the front desk, waiting to find out what was going on. "Danny, my back is hurting and Derek isn't here to get suspicious of me taking a day off, so could you take over the desk for me so I can leave?"

Danny looked like he wanted to ask a question but Stiles didn't give him the chance. He was already out the door and on his way to his car.

Derek had mentioned many times his efforts to fix up the old house in the woods. Stiles remembered people telling ghost stories about that house when he was growing up so he knew exactly where it was. Shifting the car into drive, Stiles headed to Derek's place hoping the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach was wrong.

\---

Derek panted heavily, trying to catch his breath before Kate could get another scream out of him. She was practically glowing with pleasure as she circled him like a hawk, deciding the next place she wanted to strike. She had stabbed her dagger into his thigh, broke three fingers, carved her name into his bicep with a pocketknife, and peppered his body with bites, scratches, cuts, bruises, and burns.

Mingled with the pain she would drag him into kisses that he didn't have the strength to fight. She would pause to lick his neck or suck a hickey into his skin. She would run her hands along his chest, smiling as her nails caught on the bloody gashes making him flinch and groan in pain.

Then she would grab her Taser again and press it against him until he saw black spots dancing across his vision. She never let him go unconscious though. She would grab his head and force him to look her in the eyes as she commanded him to stay awake.

She would taunt him when she got tired of torture. Telling him stories of his family and how good their screams had been, "Not like yours though." She had added, "Your screams are so, so much better."

She painted a picture for him with words. Every detail of how she had cut up his little sister, stabbed his mother, broken every bone in his father's body, and then set fire to the house while they were still inside barely clinging onto life.

Her words dragged tears out of him that he thought had all been used up back in New York. Her laughter at her deeds fueled a deeper anger and over and over Derek struggled to break free of his restraints. He could feel the blood running down the wrist of his good arm as the ropes just dug into his skin even more but he kept fighting.

He lost track of time. Maybe it had been hours. It felt more like it had been days. What he did know was that Kate showed no sign of stopping.

\---

Some instinct told Stiles that he shouldn't drive straight up to the house. He parked half a mile away and walked the rest the way up to the building. He noted Derek's car still sitting in the yard and he couldn't decide if that was a good sign or a bad one.

His question was answered when he heard an agonized scream. Keeping control of his emotions Stiles focused on his training. He clicked on his radio and whispered, "I need back up at Detective Hale's house. Now. Derek is confirmed in trouble."

A brief moment of silence followed and then he heard the answering, "Back-up is on its way. Hold your position." Thankfully his dad was whispering too, seeming to have gotten the idea that now was not a good time for loud voices.

Stiles crept closer to the house, trying to find a window with some sort of view of Derek. When another scream ripped through the house Stiles started to move faster. When he finally did get close enough to see Derek he almost wished he hadn't. A blond woman stood over him but Stiles' eyes were drawn to Derek. He hung limp in the chair he was attached to, a pool of blood lay under him and more blood was dripping down into it. It seemed every inch of him was either bleeding or bruised and Stiles could see at least two places where he had been stabbed. The one in his thigh still had the knife sticking out.

A movement from the woman caught his attention and he noticed the lighter in her hand. He watched with horror as she pressed the flame against Derek's shoulder and the skin there quickly started to redden and burn. Derek's whole body stiffened and another scream tore out of his mouth. The lighter was moved away from the scorched skin and the scream died out leaving Derek gasping to get air back in his lungs. Stiles was frozen in place, trying desperately to figure out a plan.

Stiles watched as Derek's head lifted ever so slowly, glaring at the woman in front of him. It was a good thing she was busy choosing her next weapon and not looking at Derek because he didn't hide the look of shock that crossed his face when he saw Stiles outside his window looking ready to come in and murder someone.

With what looked like a ton of effort, Derek mouthed the words, "Get out of here." to Stiles.

Shaking his head firmly, Stiles ducked out of sight of the window and crept as quietly as he could back to the front door, spurred on by the renewed sound of Derek being tortured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Stiles do now? You'll find out soon :)  
> Hope you liked the chapter.


	7. Empty Gun

Derek's tortured screams flooded Stiles with a fear he hadn't felt since the night his mother died. They ripped through his mind leaving behind a throbbing ache of terror and an almost physical pain. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe because every time Derek's cries tore out of him Stiles found himself holding his breath in as he desperately hoped that whatever caused the scream was not fatal. He was at a weird point where every scream was both a blessing and a curse. It told him that Derek was still alive, still able to be saved, but it also told him Derek was slowly becoming more and more damaged at the hands of whoever that woman was.

Stiles moved as quickly as he could without making noise. Easing open the front door and sliding through it the moment it was wide enough to fit his body. He didn't bother closing the door; he just crept cautiously down the hallway following the horrid sounds. Almost worse than the screams was the evident laughter. Stiles reached the edge of the door and while still out of sight he paused for a moment to draw his gun and double check that he had bullets in it. To his dismay, there weren't any. He only remembered squeezing off two shots at the werewolf the other night but the hollow chamber of his gun told him that he had fired more times in his blind panic than he thought. He holstered the weapon and cursed himself for not refilling it the instant he had arrived at work that morning.

With no bullets and no back-up, Stiles knew it would be stupid to attempt a rescue. He wanted to smash his head against the wall in frustration as Derek's voice echoed around him. Stiles curled his hand into a fist, digging the nails into the tender flesh of his palm as he racked his mind for options. If he went in now, unarmed and still injured, he had no idea if he would do any good. Stiles was good at fighting bare handed if he needed to but he had no idea who the woman was and for all he knew she was just as well trained as he was with the added benefit of not having werewolf injuries. On the other hand if Stiles didn't take the chance now, if he waited for the backup he knew was coming, Derek might not make it.

Stiles had no idea how life threatening Derek's injuries were. He also had no idea what kind of plan the woman had and every second he waited could be the one that she decided she was done with her game and ready to just kill Derek. That thought solidified his choice. Which to be honest, was always what he would have chosen and he knew it. There was never even a chance that he would wait patiently for others to arrive all while listening to the soundtrack of his partner's anguished yells.

Pulling out the useless gun again he glared down at it, flicked off the safety, and rounded the doorframe with the barrel pointed directly at the madly grinning woman currently peeling a strip of flesh off Derek's shoulder. Stiles steeled his features, doing his best not to give her any reason to doubt the threat of the gun. He may know it was empty but she didn't and if he played his cards right she wouldn't ever have to know. Stiles took pride in the fact that his hands didn't shake at all as he stood tall and steady glaring the woman down. Through clenched teeth he hissed out, "Beacon Hills Police, drop the knife."

She rounded on him, maniac smile still plastered on her face but her hand pulled away from Derek and that was at least a start. Derek had his back to Stiles but it was still obvious when he reacted to Stiles' voice. His body tensed and then with newfound energy he struggled harder than ever to get loose.

The woman looked Stiles up and down before she took a step away from Derek and towards Stiles, knife still clutched in her fingers. Stiles' hands tightened on his gun but he remained steady. "I said drop the knife."

"Stiles get the hell out of here before she hurts you." Derek yelled, turning his head as much as he could, trying to see what was going on behind him.

"I'm not leaving here without you, Derek."

"So," the woman drawled, "your name is Stiles? What exactly are you doing here, Stiles?"

"I won't ask you again, drop the knife."

A laugh that could only be described as a cackle burst forth from her lips. "Fine. I'll drop the knife. I'll even back up nicely against the corner so you can get to Derek. However, first I want you to answer my question. Why are you here?"

"I'm saving my partner. Now drop the damn knife."

Surprisingly, she complied. The knife clattered to the ground and she backed up slowly until she stood against the wall. Stiles approached her slowly, gun still held on her with one hand while he reached for handcuffs with his other. Her smile didn't dim and she didn't fight him at all as he fit one cuff around her wrist and attached the other to the radiator. Stiles thanked God for Derek living in an old house that still had a radiator otherwise he would have had no idea what to cuff her to.

When he was confident that she was secure, Stiles holstered his gun and raced to Derek's side taking in the damage as his trembling hands struggled to undo the knots in his binding. They were tied well and the blood that had dripped across them made the rope slick and harder to grasp. Most of the wounds looked superficial which Stiles was thankful for. They had been meant to cause pain, not death. Derek groaned in pain as Stiles' movements jostled his body and Stiles hesitated. He sat back and reevaluated the best way to get Derek free with minimal pain finally deciding to retrieve the fallen knife and just cut the bonds.

Derek still grimaced in pain as the knife dragged across the ropes but it was far better than when Stiles had been pulling on the knots. Stiles finished freeing Derek's hands from behind his back before moving on to the rope tying his legs to the chair. Derek slowly flexed the fingers when he felt the blood flow return. He gingerly brought his hands in front of him, his shoulders protesting the shift, and he rested a hand on Stiles'. Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes and finally felt something in him relax. The adrenaline flowed out of him and while Derek was certainly not in good shape, he was alive.

"Thank you, Stiles." Derek whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

Stiles nodded, fighting back tears at the sudden relief flooding his body. He offered a small smile, "Well I couldn't let you die. Then I wouldn't have anybody to help me with paperwork." His tone was joking but his eyes conveyed to Derek how truly happy he was to have arrived in time. Stiles was about to return to freeing Derek when he felt the older man's good arm wrap around him pulling him into an awkward hug. Awkward because Derek was still tied to the chair and awkward because both of them were doing their best not to touch any of Derek's wounds but despite that, it was the best feeling Stiles could think of. Derek just buried his face into Stiles' neck, not caring that he was getting blood all over Stiles and not caring that Stiles arms returning the hold were brushing against burns and cuts along his sides; all Derek cared about was that this boy, this man, had saved him. His partner, who had started as annoyance and later become a friend, was the one who had raced in to rescue Derek. In that moment Derek knew that Stiles was so much more than met the eye. He was brave and loyal on top of his humor and kindness. In that moment Derek could think of no one he would rather cling to in the aftermath of Kate.

As they pulled apart, Derek noticed Stiles finch slightly when his hand came in contact with Stiles' shoulder. Briefly there was a question about it in his mind but suddenly it didn't matter at all as he noticed Kate slinking towards them. He didn't even have time to warn Stiles before Kate was tackling him from the side, throwing him to the ground. The cry Stiles let out when his back impacted the floor seemed disproportionate to the force he had fallen with. It shouldn't have hurt as badly as it sounded like it had. Derek didn't waste breath shouting to Stiles, he leaned forward and started doing his best, with fingers that were still partially numb and only one working arm, to undo the knots still holding his legs to the chair.

The initial shock of hitting the hard floor with fresh werewolf scratches was enough to keep Stiles on the ground long enough for Kate to grab her knife out of his hand and straddle him. By the time Stiles had pulled himself back from the fog of pain the knife was to his throat and he stilled.

"Stiles." She dragged his name out like it was a curse. "You should really check a girl for lock picks before you leave her cuffed to something. Nice to meet you by the way, my name is Kate."

"That's really nice, but could you get the hell of me?" Stiles never was one for filtering his words through his brain so having a knife to him really didn't do much to change that.

"No. I think I'm good here. You see, I have this problem you may be able to help with. Derek hugged you. For me, that's not okay. You see, he's mine. No one else gets to have him. I can't have you swooping in to save him because then he may start to think that he can escape from me." There was an insane glint in her eye and her voice was disturbingly cheerful. "I also can't have you thinking you get to be a part of his life because you really, really can't be. So I'm thinking I kill you and resume what I was here for. Does that sound good?"

"It sounds like you're a possessive bitch. You're going to kill me because he hugged me? Really?" The knife pressed down a little harder and Stiles reminded himself again that his mouth really had to learn to shut.

"Yes. I really am going to kill you for hugging him. I've done much worse for Derek. I mean killing one guy is way better than killing Derek's whole family right?"

Stiles' eyes widened in horror. "What?" He gasped out.

Her eyes sparkled, "Didn't he ever tell you why he came to Beacon hills in the first place?"

Stiles found his eyes flicking over to Derek who was still only about halfway done untying his legs. As if sensing Stiles looking at him, Derek looked up and stared back at Stiles. A message passed wordlessly between them that they were going to get out of this mess somehow. Derek returned to his desperate work and Stiles tried to ignore how worried Derek had looked.

Kate shifted slightly above him and it gave Stiles exactly what he needed, access to his gun. Being as slow as possible he curled his fingers around it and drew it out of the holster. In one quick movement he had it pressed to Kate's temple and he repeated his words from earlier "Drop the knife."

The brief hesitation from Kate was enough for Stiles to knock the knife from her hand himself. Her face transformed in fury and she retaliated by grabbing onto his arm and wrenching it until he dropped his gun. Both unarmed, there was a mad scramble for weapons and moments later Stiles and Kate were both back on their feet, breathing heavily, Kate pointing Stiles' gun at his head while Stiles held her knife.

With a wicked smile, Kate cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. Derek yelled his name. Stiles wasn't sure which was better, the look of horror on Kate's face when she realized the gun was empty or the look of relief on Derek's face when he realized the same thing.

Kate dropped the gun to the floor and instead ran empty handed at Stiles. He dodged the attack and as her momentum pulled her past him he brought the hilt of the knife down hard on her skull. Her body slumped to the floor and Stiles followed soon after as exhaustion collided full force with his body. A minute later Derek was beside him, asking if he was okay and making certain Kate was out cold. When he has confirmed both of those things, he finally allowed his own body to give in to the darkness that had been curling around his vision for a while.

After another minute, Jackson and Danny burst through the door followed closely by the sheriff. Stiles had Derek's head in his lap and he was absently running his fingers through Derek's hair in a gesture of comfort while his other hand pressed against the worst of Derek's still bleeding wounds. Beside them lay a woman and Jackson had to control his wolf from ripping her apart when he saw the state of Derek. Derek and Jackson may not be close, or even friends, but Derek was close to Stiles and that was enough for Jackson. A hand from Danny helped calm him down and the two of them carried the woman to the back of their squad car.

Sheriff Stilinski approached his son, startling Stiles out of the daze he had been in. He placed a reassuring hand on Stiles' shoulder and asked if he could help get Derek to a car. Stiles nodded and together they lifted Derek up and got him out of the house, into a car, and to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff next chapter. Stay tuned :)


	8. Starting to Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to write this. I was finishing up summer quarter so I had finals going on and I was working ten hour days on top of that. Now I'm back to normal work days and I'm not taking fall classes so chapters will quicker.

* * *

Everything hurt. The smell of antiseptic surrounded him and absolutely everything hurt. With effort Derek managed to crack his eyes open, wincing at the sudden flood of light across his vision. The white walls of a hospital glared back at him as the steady beat of a heart monitor sounded to his right. There was another sound in the room, slightly softer and to his left. Derek strained to turn his head to look for the cause and saw, slumped in a rather uncomfortable plastic chair and snoring quietly, Stiles.

As Derek looked at the sleeping Stiles he noticed a few things. He saw the dark lines under his eyes that reflected a lack of sleep, he saw the blood still clinging to his clothes – Derek's blood no doubt – and he saw the small spattering of faint bruises along the man's pale arms. Bruises Derek suspected came from his impact with the floor. Sitting in the stiff chair of the hospital it was hard to see the strong confidence that Stiles had taken Kate down with. No, now he just looked worn out and too fragile for Derek's liking. Bordering on broken.

Derek was about to drift back to sleep when a nurse came bustling in to check on him. Stiles jerked awake at the noise and his eyes met Derek's briefly before falling to look at the floor. Derek was confused by the brief flash of guilt he saw in them. Stiles stood up stiffly and silently left the room so he couldn't get in the nurse's way.

The nurse was glad to see Derek awake and as she checked his bandages she gave him a rundown of his condition. "You have multiple lacerations, mostly on your torso and arms. Four of them required stitches and the rest have simply been bandaged. Your left arm was dislocated; we have fixed that and given you a sling to help minimize movement. It will be sore for quite a while. You got stabbed in your thigh and another in your side that was, thankfully, not near any organs. Those will both be sore for a while too. We set the three broken fingers and we treated the burns as well. All in all, you're pretty banged up but it will all heal. You'll be sore for a long time and it will be a while before you can return to active duty but you should at least be able to get out of the hospital within a day or two. By the end of the week you'll be able to return to work in a desk-job capacity."

"Thank you." Derek managed to get out. His throat still felt raw and his voice was gravelly and quiet from overuse. Screaming in agony did that to you.

The nurse gave a soft smile, "Don't thank me. Thank your partner. From what I hear he's the one that got you out of there. He hasn't left the hospital since you got here and he hasn't left the room from the moment we allowed visitors. Most the Sheriff's Office has been here on and off all day but Detective Stilinski hasn't left once."

After a few more checks, the nurse made her way back out of the room and Stiles' head popped into view as he asked, "Is it alright if I come in?" He got a nod from Derek before fully entering the room. He resumed his sitting position in the uncomfortable chair and took a deep breath. Suddenly words were spilling out of his mouth in a rush, "I should have been there sooner." He blurted. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he locked eyes with Derek. The surprise on Derek's face was obvious and he opened his mouth to respond but Stiles didn't give him the chance. "No, don't argue it. I knew you wouldn't miss work. I knew. Why would you miss work? You're like the most work oriented guy on the force. Any detective worth anything would have realized instantly that something was wrong. It took me until after lunch to start worrying. I'm your partner and I let you spend hours…" Stiles voice caught in his throat and he fought to get the next words out without breaking down, "…being tortured …because I was busy being mad at you for skipping out on desk duty day." His hands clenched into fists and his next words came out almost in a yell. "You could have died while I sat around complaining to Jackson about you!"

"I would be dead now if it weren't for you." Derek softly stated. Stiles recoiled at the words and it seemed for a moment that he would argue. He wanted nothing more than to take the blame for Derek's pain. Derek refused to let him. "What Kate did isn't your fault and the fact that you showed up at all is more than I expected. I was convinced I was going to die there because no one would come to check on me until too late." Derek made sure Stiles was looking him in the eye before he finished, "Stiles, you saved my life. Thank you. You are a good detective and an even better partner; I would never want anyone else at my back." A sudden thought occurred to Derek as he remembered part of the rescue, "Are you alright? Back at the house, I remember you flinching when I touched your back."

Stiles looked panicked for a moment and then he laughed as he replied, "Yeah, just got a bruise when Kate tackled me. No big deal. I've had bruises before, they're not an issue. I did get tackled and pinned by a girl so that kinda stole some of my masculinity for a bit but then I remembered that Erica and Allison can both beat the shit out of me so being beaten by Kate's not really that unusual." He flailed his arms as he talked as if to prove that he was completely fine but Derek saw the slight wince when his shoulder moved too much.

"Funny," Derek mused aloud, "I could have sworn that I touched your back when I hugged you. Which was _before_ Kate knocked you to the ground."

Stiles' laugh was high pitched and borderline hysteric, "Nope, but with all the damage you took it's no wonder you don't remember clearly how everything happened. Anyway, a little bruise is nothing, don't worry about me. You have a hell of a lot more problems than I do. Hurry and heal so you can come back to work. Even Jackson's worried about you and for him that is a big deal. Mostly though it's freaking me out seeing Jackson with feelings so hurry up and come back so he can resume his better-than-everyone attitude." Once Stiles started rambling he could go on for days. He figured the longer he talked the farther Derek's mind would get from asking about his injury.

Derek fell asleep to the sounds of Stiles updating him on what had happened at the station in the day and a half he had been gone. It was amazing really how many words Stiles could find to describe the fact that absolutely nothing had happened.

* * *

"It's not for me, Deaton. It's for Derek. Derek got hurt really bad and he won't heal as quickly as the wolves so I wanted you to whip something up for him. Please."

Deaton gave a long suffering sigh, "Stiles, why are you willing to use magic to help heal Derek – which could risk exposing magic to him – but you refuse to let me even _try_ to help you with your own wound?"

"Because he needs it more than I do; my injury is healing fine and it doesn't affect my work or anything. I can get over it completely on my own. I'm fine. Totally fine. I'm not turning into a werewolf which is awesome. Not that being a werewolf is bad. Some of my best friends are werewolves. You already know that." He was getting off topic so he steered himself back to the point, "Besides, I know you can find a way to help Derek without making magic too obvious. I just want to make it a little easier on him." His voice got quieter and his eyes dulled as he swallowed past a lump in his throat. "You should have seen him, Deaton. That Kate bitch is certifiably insane. I've seen horrible things because of all the supernatural shit that goes down in this town but I've never seen anything as bad as what she did to him. What she did was entirely for the fun of it. If I hadn't gotten there she probably would have eventually ripped out his intestines just to show him what they looked like. Then she would tear his heart out in the most literal sense. The way she played with him… tortured him…" Stiles took a steadying breath, "I'm already going to hear his screams in my head for the rest of my life; I would like to at least remove the physical reminders of how he looked as she stood over him. I can't spend the next few months watching him cringe every time he moves the wrong way or pushes himself too hard. I won't do it. I need to fix him as quickly as possible without him getting suspicious."

Crossing the room, Deaton pulled a book off his shelf and started flipping through it. As he searched for the right page he talked, "If I agree to this will you let me give you something to help with your scratches?"

Stiles flapped his hand in the air in a gesture of exasperation, "Fine, fine. Just help me get Derek whole again. Right now he looks half dead. The last thing I want is another dead partner."

The flipping pages paused and Deaton looked up at Stiles. "You know that what happened to Derek isn't your fault right?" Stiles couldn't meet Deaton's eyes. "Stiles, he isn't Boyd. Kate wasn't a supernatural creature she was just a regular, garden variety, criminal. Helping Derek is fine and I will find a way to do it but you need to understand that this is not a repeat of Boyd's death. Don't start feeling responsible. You couldn't have saved Boyd just like you couldn't have gotten to Derek any sooner so stop feeling guilty." Deaton gingerly put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "You are far too young to carry so much weight on your shoulders, Stiles. Stop doubting yourself whenever something goes wrong."

Stiles just shrugged and refused to answer.

* * *

Monday rolled around and Derek dragged himself out of bed as enthusiastically as he could. His body ached all over still but he was dying of boredom sitting around the house so he was more than happy to go to work even though it meant sitting at a desk. He glared at the sling he had to wear, and then he grudgingly put it on before heading to the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal. Just as he was finishing he heard the doorbell. More specifically he heard the doorbell at least eight times. He smiled to himself as he went to answer the door knowing full well that it had to be Stiles on the other side.

"Morning!" Stiles grinned brightly at him.

"How can you be so cheerful in the mornings?" Derek grumbled as he turned to grab his jacket. Stiles had insisted on driving Derek to work until his leg was feeling completely normal again. Derek would never admit it but he was secretly glad.

Before they made it to the car, Stiles shoved a thermos at him with a smile and stated, "Here! I made you some tea. It's an old family recipe that's supposed to promote healing. I figured you could use it. Because you have a lot of healing to do." He looked so proud as he offered the tea that Derek couldn't find it in his heart to refuse it. Grabbing the tea from Stiles he took a tentative sip, surprised at how good it was. He felt it flood him with warmth and he swore if he didn't know better he would have thought his entire body ached a little less.

* * *

Despite the mind numbing dullness of a day spent at the front desk, Derek reveled in being able to occupy his time with something. It felt good to be doing something again and he loved every second of it. He would be lying if he tried to deny that a good part of his enjoyment was due to the man sitting next to him.

Throughout the day a flurry of sticky notes had found their way from one side of the desk to the other as the two laughed their way through an otherwise boring day.

"How are you feeling? – S"

"Like I got hit by a truck. – D"

"Actually that sounds like a better alternative to the real story. – S"

"You're right. Maybe if you hit me with your stupid Jeep I would feel better. –D"

"Hey! The Jeep is a wonderful thing. Don't insult her. Also, I'd never hit you with her. I wouldn't want your thick skull to damage her. –S"

"How would you be able to tell? It's already full of dents. –D"

"True. And each dent tells a wonderful story. That doesn't mean I want more. –S"

"A story? How can a dent tell a story? –D"

"Well there's the time I ran into a tree because Scott and Allison were making out in the back and I was too busy telling them to stop to notice the tree. –S"

"A worthy reason to dent your car. No one wants to be near that kind of horror. –D"

"There was also the time I was trying to show Isaac that I knew how to fix my own car and I ended up accidentally tearing a piece out of it and promptly dropping said piece onto the hood. –S"

"I concede. You clearly _can_ have good stories behind dents. –D"

"Speaking of good stories, what do you think the story is behind that guy's hair? –S"

Derek tried his best to inconspicuously look up and find the guy Stiles was talking about. When he saw it he had to choke back his laugh and he pulled another sticky note to him as he scrawled, "My best guess is he took a weed whacker to it. –D"

Stiles grinned to himself and jotted down an answer.

Hours later they were both startled when Scott slapped a sticky note down in front of both of them. "If you two are done flirting for now, do you want to work-out with me? –Scott" When they read it they both burst out into fresh laughter and Stiles' cheeks flared a lovely red as Derek ducked his head in mock embarrassment.

Finally getting control of himself, Stiles gasped for air as he nodded to Scott and said, "Yeah. I'll go with you. It's been awhile since I worked out. You in, Derek?"

"I won't be able to work out with you," Derek replied gesturing to his body which was in no shape to exercise, "but I'll go with. Beats sitting around at my house."

They traipsed to the back of the precinct where the lockers and gym were; Scott and Stiles grabbed their work-out clothes from their lockers while Derek sat and waited for them. Stiles eased his button-up off to switch to a T-shirt and remembered too late exactly what was under his shirt. The sharp intake of breath from Derek's direction was the only proof he needed that Derek had seen the ugly, still healing, marks across his back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Derek and Stiles get in a fight. Look forward to it :)


	9. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry that this took forever. I just had total writer's block. I knew what I wanted for the first half of the chapter but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to end it.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend that this wasn't happening. The light pressure of warm fingers pressed against his back did little to help him believe that he was somehow dreaming.

Scott fidgeted for a moment, looking between his two friends awkwardly, before he cleared his throat and announced, "I'm just gonna go on ahead. I'll meet you guys in there."

Stiles eyes flew open at his words and even Scott couldn't miss the flash of betrayal in them as he ducked out of the room.

Derek spoke just as Stiles was starting to wonder if there was anything worse than the thick silence hanging over them. "Stiles, this… It's not…" Derek took a deep breath, "Stiles what happened? Don't try to pass this off as Kate's doing."

And yeah, Stiles was certain now that there was in fact something worse than the silence. It was the soft and broken tone that Derek spoke in. The one that told him he had been caught in a lie and it had very definitely hurt Derek. Worse was the knowledge that he couldn't ease Derek's pain. He was only going to make it worse.

"Well… You know that _thing_? The one we don't talk about? The secret thing that you've been trying to figure out since you got here and you get really annoyed when I won't tell you? It has to do with that so I really can't tell you."

Derek made an angered sound in the back of his throat that Stiles would have called a growl if he hadn't been 100% certain Derek was human. A forceful hand latched onto his good shoulder and turned him around until he had no choice but to look straight at Derek. The man's eyes blazed with barely controlled fury and indignation and his words came out cold.

"Stiles, I was never even close to happy with you keeping something big a secret from me. But you promised me you were safe and so I tried to drop it. I tried to not push too far on it. This," He gestured to Stiles' injured shoulder, "this is pretty damn far from being safe. So before you get yourself hurt again, or worse, killed, you are going to tell me what the hell is going on in this town."

The demand in Derek's voice made Stiles almost want to just open up to the guy, but his father's voice reminded him of the danger and he pressed his mouth shut. Instead of giving in, he poured his frustration at the situation into anger. This was in danger of becoming a huge problem and he knew he had to deal with it now. He had to convince Derek to care so little about Stiles and the town that he would never try to solve its riddles again.

He shrugged Derek's hand off roughly and spat out, "Actually, Hale, I'm not telling you a thing. This isn't your town. What happens here – our secrets – have nothing to do with you and they never will. Stay out of them." He threw in a glare for good measure but the look on Derek's face made it clear that directing unjustified anger at him wouldn't be enough to dissuade him this time. So Stiles went for the worst thing he could think of. "While we're on the topic of secrets, when exactly where you planning on telling me you had a psycho murderer after you? I could have died saving your stupid ass and if you had bothered to give a little heads-up then maybe I could have been a little more prepared. You put the entire precinct in danger."

Derek reeled back as if he had been physically hit. A small part –actually a rather large part if he was being honest – of Stiles ached at the look in his eyes. He longed to reach a hand out to Derek, to heal the hurt that caused that expression to darken his face.

"I didn't know." Derek said quietly. "I never thought she would put you in danger."

Stiles viciously twisted the knife in further, "How could you not have known? I looked up the file when we got back. She murdered your family so you two could be together. How could you _possibly_ have been stupid enough to think she wouldn't follow you here? If I didn't know better I'd say that you _wanted_ her to find you."

"I deserved it."

And no. That had not been part of Stiles' plan. He was not prepared for that response and those three simple words broke all the resolve he had. The anger crumbled from his face and in disbelief he asked, "Deserved what? The things she did to you? Derek, tell me you don't honestly think you deserved that."

Derek's eyes darted to the ground, fixing on a spot of dirt near his foot. "You're right," He muttered. "We both have our secrets. If you want to keep a secret that is putting you in danger then I would be a hypocrite to demand you share it with me." He passed Stiles and headed to the door without another word.

"What? No. That isn't how this conversation ends." Stiles shouted after him. He closed the distance between them and grabbed at Derek's arm to hold the older man back. "Derek, why the hell would you think you deserve what she did to you? Did you actually expect her to chase you down here? Were you planning on it all along? Because I was just making it up, I didn't think you really had expected her. I certainly didn't think… Jesus, Derek… You actually wanted her to kill you didn't you." It wasn't a question. The moment Stiles said it he knew it was true. "That's why you didn't tell anyone. You didn't want us to save you. You didn't think you deserved to be saved."

Derek rounded on him, anger back in his eyes. "I don't deserve it! I killed my entire family, Stiles. Don't you _get_ that? My whole family died screaming in agony at the hands of the woman I thought I loved. I deserve far worse than what she did to me when she found me. You weren't supposed to be there!"

"But I was! I was, and I stopped her, and I would give anything to have gotten there sooner because you didn't deserve a single second of that torture." Stiles had gotten closer to Derek as he talked and he was surprised to note just how little distance there was between his body and the angry tension that was his partner.

Slowly the anger faded from Derek's frame and his shoulders slumped as if he was caving in on himself. "I'm not saying I'm not thankful that you showed up. I am. I hate myself for it, but I really am glad you stopped her. I deserved the pain but that doesn't mean I wanted it." He stared into space as his hand rose to rub unconsciously at the worst of the gashes still healing under his shirt. Focusing back on his partner – meeting his eyes – Derek reached out to grasp Stiles' hand in his. He squeezed it lightly, ignoring for the moment the warmth that the touch filled him with, and he said, "Stiles, I know you don't want to tell me. I know you think it's none of my business, and maybe you're right. But I promise you it _does_ affect me. It's causing you pain, it's putting you in danger, and it's definitely stressing you out. I'm scared for you Stiles. You saved me and I just want the chance to do the same for you. Whatever it is, it can't possibly be worse than me waking up one day to find out that my partner got killed on a case that I could have helped him with."

"I'll make a deal with you." Stiles replied with a humorless smile. "I'll tell you everything – every single detail – the day that you forgive yourself for what that bitch did to your family."

"Stiles, I-"

"You can't. I know. And neither can I."

Derek dropped Stiles' hand and took a step back, dragging his hand through his hair in frustration. "Why, Stiles?"

"Because my secret… It kills people, Derek. I'm not going to give it the power to kill you too. I've seen enough death already." With one last sad look into Derek's eyes, Stiles turned back to his locker and finished getting dressed before he left to join Scott. As he walked out the door he added as an afterthought, "Your family would want you to be happy."

Derek stayed frozen in place as he watched Stiles walk away from him. His eyes traced once more over the glaring red marks decorating Stiles' back and Derek longed to reach out and ease whatever pain they had caused. More than that, he wanted to get ahold of whoever – or whatever – had caused the jagged lines in the first place. He hated to admit it to himself but the man he had first thought of as just an annoying brat had pretty quickly worked his way under Derek's skin. It scared him to feel so strongly for another person again. Worse than that, it terrified him to know that Stiles was in constant danger and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

He wondered briefly what it would be like to actually forgive himself. He debated whether he would be capable of doing it for Stiles' sake.

He wasn't.

That didn't mean he was going to let Stiles get away with not telling him what was happening.

* * *

Scott raised an eyebrow at Stiles as he entered the gym. "You alright? Where's Derek?"

"He's not entirely happy with me at the moment. Which I suppose was my goal. To begin with at least. I thought if I pissed him off he'd stop trying to figure me out. But then things just got really horrible. Like _really_ horrible. I ended up just wanting to hug him and that wasn't my goal at all but that's what happened. Not the hugging. Just the wanting to hug. I made him upset. I wanted him angry but I ended with upset. Either way he's not happy. I don't like it. I want him to be happy. Scott, I don't like lying to him. At first it was easy because I didn't really know him and he was a bit of a jerk. Now though… Now I just feel like I want to tell him everything. I feel like he deserves to know because I don't want to keep secrets from him." The words tumbled out with no control whatsoever.

Scott was thankfully used to Stiles' word vomit so he just nodded as Stiles talked and he gave consoling looks. Until Stiles stopped for breath. "Stiles, why don't you just tell him? I think he could handle it."

Stiles gaped at his best friend in shock. "Tell him? Did you somehow miss what happened last time I let someone new into this world? Boyd is _dead_ because of me. I was selfish and I wanted a partner that knew what was happening but that only got him killed faster."

"Stop doing that, Stiles. You know as well as I do that Boyd's death would have happened whether he knew about us or not. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it got him killed."

"He could have run. If that was the first time he saw a wolf then he would have run. Instead he thought he could handle it because he had the right bullets and he knew what he was facing."

Scott scoffed, "If you really think Boyd would have run then you didn't know him as well as I thought you did. There were civilians around. If he had never seen a werewolf before he would still have charged that one to protect the rest of the crowd. His death was horrible, I get that, but it would have happened the same even if you had never told him. Even Erica knows it wasn't your fault. There's nothing that telling Derek can do except give you a partner to back you up."

Stiles was quiet for a moment. "Agree to disagree." He finally stated before motioning towards the bench press with a look that made it clear the conversation was over and he wanted to get on with the work-out.

* * *

" _Four_ more bodies?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "Were they all the same threefold murder?"

Danny shot a glance in Derek's direction – glad to note that he was on the other side of the small room – before saying a little quieter so only Stiles could hear, "Three of them are. The last one was another attack."

Stiles sighed heavily. "Of course. Because what we needed was for both of our current problems to get worse on the exact same day. Were there any witnesses to the attack? Do we need to do cover-up?"

Danny shook his head.

"Alright, that's good. What about the three, has Deaton gotten back to us on the possibility of these being the work of actual magic?"

"He thinks it is. Says that it sounds like a dark druid. He called them a Darach."

"For the rest of this conversation, the Darach is just a nut-job." Stiles commanded as he motioned Derek over to join them. "So, these new three, are we still thinking they're virgin sacrifices?"

"Actually, they had something else in common. All three of them were soldiers."

Stiles started pacing as he thought aloud, "So, it's three virgins, then three soldiers. It's happening in sets. And it's escalating. Three at once is a huge difference from how the virgins were sacrificed. So whatever this crazy is planning, they're stepping it up. Is there a way to figure out who they'll go for next?" Without waiting for an answer he sat down in front of his computer and started typing. His fingers flew across the keyboard and he muttered to himself as he worked.

While he searched Derek turned to look fully at Danny. "What about the fourth body I heard about?" Derek didn't fail to notice the way Stiles' hands froze for an instant before resuming their typing.

Danny on the other hand just shrugged and responded, "It looked like an animal attack of some kind. We'll tell people to be careful."

"You're certain it wasn't the same person who's been attacking people around the edge of the forest?"

"I suppose it could have been." Danny answered, looking at Stiles for help but receiving none. He continued, "I wouldn't jump to conclusions though. Jackson and I are looking into it. You and Stiles focus on the sacrifices." He backed out of the room quickly.

As Derek turned on his partner, Stiles mentally cursed Danny for leaving. This was becoming a habit with his friends. They abandoned him at just the wrong moments.

"It is isn't it?" Derek demanded to know. "This is that same person again? The one that hurt you? They're killing people. This psycho is killing people and you're still trying to just go against them alone."

The fingers on the keyboard stopped again and Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes. "Healers."

"What?"

"Healers are the next people that will be sacrificed. They're following the pattern of a power spell. Virgins, warriors, healers, philosophers, and guardians. All in sets of three with a threefold death. I would bet you that the next bodies that turn up will be healers. Probably doctors or something."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Well how exactly do we stop them from getting ahold of healers? Especially when we have to figure out how to catch the other person too?"

Stiles glared at Derek as he threw his hands up in frustration. "Derek, just _drop_ it. Yes, someone out there is killing people. Yes, I am dealing with it without you. It's not going to change so just leave it alone."

"Not while it's still putting you in danger."

"Why the hell do you even care? Just let me deal with my own problems! If I get killed then it sucks, but at least you'll be safe."

"What if that's not good enough for me?" Derek roared. His voice got a little quieter again as he added, "I'd rather be facing danger with you than letting you die trying to fight whatever this is alone."

"Well too bad."

"Fine. Then I'll just follow you and find out on my own."

"I'll get Scott to detain you."

"I'll knock him out if I have to."

Stiles laughed at that. "You wouldn't be able to."

"If it meant saving you, I could. I'd still feel a bit guilty about it but I'd do it. I'm not willing to just sit back and watch you die. I care too much about you."

"I just meant you physically couldn't knock him out, not that you would feel bad abo – hang on… You care too much about me?"

Derek's eyes widened as if he had only just realized what he'd said. "I… Uh… Yeah… That is… Shit, I didn't mean to tell you like that."

Stiles grinned, fight forgotten, "For the record, I feel the same."


	10. Guarding

Derek pulled into the hospital parking lot and groaned when he saw a familiar Jeep parked near the entrance. He was getting really tired of seeing that particular car in this parking lot. He'd be much happier with it sitting in the driveway of Stiles' house. Before he even left his own car he had pulled his phone out and made a call for some back-up. Then it was time to deal with Stiles. He approached the offending vehicle and rapped sharply on the window – stifling a laugh when Stiles jumped high enough in surprise that he bashed his head on the roof. Seeing Derek glowering down at him, Stiles slowly and sheepishly rolled the window down and prepared himself for the lecture he was about to get.

"Stiles, you were supposed to go home hours ago." Derek reprimanded. He took in the bags under Stiles' eyes and the mountain of fast food wrappers located on his passenger seat. Softening his voice – almost pleading for Stiles to listen – he continued, "It's been three days, Stiles. You need to sleep." Derek watched Stiles take another sip of his large triple shot coffee. Even with more coffee than blood running through his veins Stiles' eyes were drooping heavily and his whole body swayed slightly as he fought to even stay upright.

"Can't sleep. Have to keep an eye on the hospital. Sleep means people dying. Don't know about you but I don't want more people to die. I've had enough of that for one life time thanks." Slurred Stiles as he forced his eyes to stay open. After discovering that the next targets would likely be doctors or nurses, Stiles had parked his car in front of the hospital and refused to move. Scott's mom was in there and all her friends and coworkers. He couldn't stand even the thought of them not being safe. So he sat and he watched and he waited. A part of him constantly hoping that the Darach would never come – that this nightmare was over and everyone was safe - and another part of him hoping the Darach would show its ugly face so Stiles could finally feel like he was _doing_ something to protect his town. _Anything._

Scott and Isaac had been there too, whenever they could spare the time, and Derek always seemed to be around as well but Stiles was the only one who hadn't taken a single moment off. His entire body ached from too many hours crammed into a car and his stomach protested the sudden rise in junk food instead of his usual more healthy fare. After all he couldn't justify taking the time for real food when every moment he was gone was another moment that people were in danger.

Every time Derek had shown up it was with an even more concerned glimmer in the back of his eyes. His eyebrows drew together in frustration and he wanted nothing more than to shove Stiles over into the passenger seat so he could drive the man home. It was a special kind of torture for Derek; watching this man he was falling in love with push himself so hard. The amount of weight Stiles placed on his own shoulders was far too heavy a load for him yet no matter how much Derek tried to take some of it Stiles kept refusing to share. The stress of whatever secrets he was keeping was tearing him apart and all Derek could do was sit and watch.

He wanted to – ached to – be able to offer Stiles more than just friendship to help him through whatever he struggled with. He couldn't though. He wouldn't allow himself to be a part of Stiles' life as anything more than a friend. None of his feelings, his desire or his love could change that.

As a friend though, he was still allowed to care enough about Stiles to want him to be doing well so when Stiles was falling apart at the seams from lack of sleep Derek felt he needed to get the man home. "You missing a few hours to grab some rest won't hurt anyone," He insisted to the stubborn boy. Stiles opened his mouth to offer a tired protest but Derek cut him off. "I've called Jackson and Danny, they're going to be here any minute to take over for you so you can take a break. You're no good to anyone if you fall asleep right as an attack happens." That wasn't even a thought Derek wanted to consider. It was bad enough having Stiles in danger but having him in danger while half asleep was worse. Just because the psycho was aiming to kill healers didn't mean they wouldn't murder a nosy and barely alert detective who happened to stumble onto the scene.

For a few moments, Stiles still stared up at him with a defiant blaze in his eyes. Then slowly, the fire faded out of them and his body slumped. "You're probably right." He conceded. "I just… What if something _does_ happen while I'm gone? It could be anyone. Scott's mom… She's like a mom to me too and if she got killed I'd never forgive myself. I can't fail more people, Derek. I definitely can't lose another mom."

A pained look crossed Derek's face and his hand rose, unconsciously seeking to comfort Stiles. He stopped a fraction of an inch from Stiles' cheek and forced his hand back down. Stiles' eyes had grown wide and just a little hopeful but when Derek retreated his face fell. It had been like this ever since Derek had let slip that he cared about Stiles. Derek had almost immediately started completely avoiding the topic but at the same time he was clearly struggling to not even touch Stiles.

It was like every time he was around Stiles he wanted nothing more than to act on his feelings but he kept holding back instead. Darkness lurked behind his eyes whenever his traitorous mind tried to let him be with Stiles. The younger man didn't blame Derek at all. Stiles understood completely why Derek didn't want to be with him. After all, he had made it perfectly clear three days ago. No matter how much it hurt to admit it, Derek had perfectly valid reasons to refuse his feelings. Still, his heart ached every time Derek drew away from him and pulled the mask down over his face again. It filled Stiles with frustration over the situation. He just wanted _one_ thing to go right in his life and he had hoped it would be Derek. Instead he was screwing that up too. Like he did everything else.

His sleep deprived brain translated his frustration into anger and as he once again watched Derek retreat from him he snapped, "I'm not poisonous, Hale."

Derek flinched and took another step back. He hated the way his name sounded flying off Stiles' tongue in anger. It was only at moments like that Stiles would call him, "Hale," and the name seemed like a curse as it was spat out with venom. So he retreated, putting distance between himself and the anger that burned at him from the boy in the Jeep. His voice was quiet as it tried to placate Stiles' anger, "I know. I know you're not poisonous, Stiles. I just… I'm sorry." After a brief uncomfortable silence he added, "You have to get home. You need sleep."

Stiles grumbled to himself as he turned away from Derek and started the Jeep. He was about to throw it into reverse when his door opened and he turned furious eyes to Derek. "What the hell, Hale? I'm trying to go home. You know? The thing you told me to do. I'm doing it. Right now. Get the fuck out of my way."

"You haven't slept in three days. You're not driving." Derek's face was still guarded and he held himself as far away from Stiles as he could while still holding the door open. He ignored the twinge in the back of his mind that wanted to do whatever he could to erase the fury from Stiles' voice and replace it with happiness.

With an exaggerated groan, Stiles turned the car back off and grumpily slid out of it. His long lanky limbs protested the move as muscles stretched out of their cramped positions. This time when he groaned it was out of pain and not annoyance. He stumbled a little as his tired body tried to remember how to properly move. Maybe Derek had a point; he would have done no one any good in this state. Stiles pretended not to notice the way Derek had reached out instinctively to steady him. He also tried not to feel the burning emptiness he felt when Derek refused to go that last inch and actually touch him.

Instead of focusing on those feelings, Stiles focused on sliding into Derek's car and slamming the door shut to make sure Derek really understood that he wasn't happy about having to leave. He was grumpy. He was allowed to be grumpy. His life sucked right now. He was tired, he was overworked, he felt like he was fighting a losing battle on all sides and with no one for back-up. No one to help him out of this pit he was falling further and further into.

As Derek got into the driver's seat –with entirely too much grace for a guy as scowl-y looking as him should possess – Stiles took a second to remind himself that having no back-up was his own fault. He had someone beside him that wanted to help and he just kept rejecting it. That's why it made so much sense that Derek was refusing to allow anything to happen between them despite the obviously mutual attraction. Why would Derek want to be with someone who constantly lied to him? Especially seeing how his last relationship ended. Understanding Derek's point of view did nothing to ease the hurt Stiles felt as the silence between them continued to grow. It was far from a comfortable silence. It was a silence thick with feelings that had been squashed down viciously in self defense. A silence of anger and betrayal built up on all the lies between them. Thinking back to that day in the office Stiles wished it could all just be simpler.

* * *

– Three Days Ago –

"I'm not willing to just sit back and watch you die. I care too much about you."

The words had flown off Derek's tongue without a thought and Stiles took a second to fully comprehend them. His mouth kept going as he processed and when the unintentional confession finally penetrated the inner babble of Stiles' mind he stopped midsentence to clarify."– hang on… You care too much about me?" Now that the words were in his head they wouldn't stop repeating. Replaying over and over _I care too much about you. I care too much about you. I care. About you._

Derek stuttered out a response as his face flushed and he looked away from Stiles. "I… Uh… Yeah… That is… Shit, I didn't mean to tell you like that."

 _I care too much about you. I care too much about you._ Stiles' face split into a wide grin as he stated, "For the record, I feel the same." There was a beat of silence before Stiles started flailing his hands around and talking a mile a minute, "I mean, if you meant what I think you meant. I'm pretty sure you meant it as in you like me. As in _like_ like me. That's kind of what it seemed like and I'm pretty sure I've gotten some of those signals from you lately. Which would be awesome. Cause I _like_ like you too. But now that I think about it you only said you _care_ about me and you may have just meant as friends. In that case this is really embarrassing and I'm sorry and forget I said anything. This never happened. I'm going to shut up and leave you alone now. Please don't let things get all awkward between us now."

"Stiles –"

"Shit, they're already awkward aren't they? I've messed it all up. You'll request a new partner and a transfer. You'll go back to New York and never think about Beacon Hills again. I've ruined everything. I have this fantastic five year plan to win you over and now it's all for nothing and I'm never going to see you again."

"Stiles –"

"Why am I so horrendously horrible at this? Can't I just like _one_ person who actually likes me back? What did I do to deserve such shitty luck?"

"STILES!"

Finally, he was silent long enough to notice the fond smile on Derek's lips and the humor dancing in his eyes. Stiles froze as he pondered the man in front of him. Derek took a small step closer and Stiles forgot how to breathe for an instant. The next thing he knew they were kissing. Neither of them was quite certain who had initiated it but it was happening and they had no intention of complaining.

It wasn't like the movies where sparks fly and romantic music plays in the background but it was still pretty damn spectacular. Derek's arms were practically holding Stiles up as his legs turned to jello while his own arms tangled into Derek's hair.

Then just as suddenly as it had started, Derek was pulling away. Actually, not even pulling. He shoved away from Stiles and was on the other side of the office in seconds. His chest was heaving and his eyes were darkened with emotions Stiles couldn't place. Stiles stood still long enough to process the change and then as he let his arms drop back to his side he asked, "What the hell?"

Derek seemed to somehow pull away even farther at the words despite already being as far physically from Stiles as he could be. His fists clenched and his eyes lowered as he answered. "I can't do this. I'm not ready to do this again. Yes, I like you, but I'll be damned if I'm going to act on it."

His voice was a mixture of hurt and anger that made Stiles want to pull him closer. He wanted to take away whatever thoughts were running through the older man's mind that would cause those emotions. Stiles wished he could just reach out and kiss Derek until neither on of them could think of anything else. He suspected if he tried Derek would flee so he settled for quietly saying, "That makes zero sense. Derek. What's wrong with acting on this if we both feel it?"

It could be considered a step up that when Derek answered he was once again looking Stiles in the eyes, but the fact that they were now clearly filled with rage made it a shallow victory. "Because I can't trust you." He spat out. "Because look at what happened the last time I let someone in. You have been lying to me from day one; hiding things that I need to know about because you think you're doing the right thing. The last thing I want right now is another person getting close to me that I can't trust. I can't handle another Kate."

Stiles had no answer. What answer could he possibly give? Derek was right. There was no reason in the world that Derek should trust him and he had every reason to want to avoid entanglements with people he didn't trust. Guilt swelled thickly in Stiles' throat and his eyes burned with it. He nodded mutely to Derek and walked out of the office without another word.

Unfortunately letting the feelings go wasn't as easy as just walking away. It was like a switch had been flipped in both of them that just made them want to constantly touch, kiss, comfort, and _love_. Stiles fought it off viciously by remembering the pain Kate had caused Derek and the very real fear that Stiles' lies could be just as damaging. He ached to just beg Derek to trust him regardless of all the reasons not to but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Derek seemed to struggle just as much. He was constantly wavering between giving in and pulling away. He would let his defenses drop for a moment and then shove them right back up as soon as he realized what had happened. It was giving Stiles whip lash to be on the receiving end of the indecision. He knew that if there was ever a moment when Derek stopped fighting it he would be there happily waiting to be with him. But if that day never came, Stiles would die before he tried to force Derek into something he didn't want to do.

* * *

"Are you getting out of are you planning on sleeping in my car?"

Derek's exasperated voice cut through Stiles' memories and he flushed red. The look on Derek's face implied he had tried getting Stiles' attention a few times already. In Stiles' defense, he hadn't slept in three days. He wasn't exactly running on full right now. He made a show of grumbling as he clambered clumsily out of Derek's car and his spirits rose a little at the soft smile and eye roll that the exaggerated complaints got from Derek.

Yeah. Things were pretty bad between then right now. But there was hope. Maybe one day all the werewolf problems would go away and Stiles could finally stop lying to Derek. Maybe then things would all work out and for once something in his life could go right. There was nothing Stiles wanted more than a chance to prove to Derek that not everyone he liked was a repeat of Kate.

Stiles wanted the chance to earn Derek's trust instead of constantly driving more and more suspicion between them. There was also a small part of him that wanted to murder Kate for the permanent psychological damage she had done to Derek. Maybe without that he and Derek could have had a chance.

As Stiles slowly made his way to the front door, listening to the sound of Derek's car pulling away, he wondered if he would even be able to get any sleep. His mind seemed filled with voices telling him all the things that he did wrong and he wasn't certain anymore he could shut it off.

_People are going to die because I'm not there to keep an eye on them._

_Derek is going to get tired of my lies one day and he'll leave._

_The Darach is going to win._

_The bad werewolves are going to win._

_No matter who wins… I'm always going to be the one to lose._

When his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep almost instantly to the thought; _everyone I love is going to end up dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'm sooooo sorry I took forever to update. I got distracted by life. I've got the entire rest the fic written in draft form though so once I revise/edit it I should have the last few chapters up soon.


	11. Keeping Watch

The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted up to wake Stiles. He blinked blearily at his clock and panicked. So much for just taking a quick nap and getting back to guarding the hospital. He'd slept for nearly six hours. He rolled out of bed in a tangle of sheets and with an ungraceful flourish he hit the floor. He berated himself as he kicked off the covers that were still wrapped around his legs and he dragged his still tired body to the dresser for a new shirt.

He dove down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet at least twice but somehow managed to flail in a way that maintained his balance.

Barely.

Stiles ignored the rumble in his stomach and the enticing scent of real food in favor of returning to his watch sooner. He was halfway to the front door when a stern voice carried down the hallway from the kitchen.

"Stiles, if you try to leave without eating some breakfast I'm going to call Derek and have him drag your ass back here. I suspect that doing that would only take even more time away from you getting back to the hospital so it's really in your best interest to just give up now."

"I can grab food on the way, dad." Stiles argued back as he continued walking – albeit a little slower this time. Real food _did_ sound good.

"Genim Stiles Stilinski, so help me if I have to sit on you and shove the food down your throat I will do it. You are not having another meal made of junk food and soda."

His dad was glaring at him from the doorway of the kitchen now and with an exaggerated sigh and a notable slump to his shoulders Stiles conceded. He turned back towards the kitchen, trying to both stomp his feet in childlike protest and sulk at the same time. He shot a half-hearted glower at his father as he flopped down in the closest chair. As he heaped the delectable smelling food onto a plate, his scowl slowly left his face and he busied himself by stuffing his mouth with the first real food he'd eaten in days.

It took great effort not to choke on his mouthful of pancake though when his dad casually cleared his throat and said, "So… about Derek…"

Stiles forced himself to take a moment to swallow his food before he replied causally, "What about Derek?" as he did his best to pretend that his face wasn't turning red.

"Oh for god's sake, Stiles, stop blushing. This isn't _that_ talk. With all the shit that goes down in this town your somewhat work inappropriate relationship with your partner is the least of my worries. I want to talk about what Derek knows about Beacon Hills."

For a moment Stiles was relieved that they weren't having _that_ talk. The one that would likely give them both years of uncomfortable memories later. Then he started panicking about what his dad actually _had_ asked. He fought off the panic the way he often did. He rambled. "Nothing. Derek knows nothing. Well, he knows stuff. He's not an idiot. I'm sure he learned things at college somewhere in New York and he knows basic things about Beacon Hills. He knows everyone's names and he knows his way around the place. So he doesn't know _nothing_ but he also doesn't know anything. If you know what I mean. Do you know what I mean? He doesn't know about the werewolves or that the Darach is really magical or that the entire town is in danger or anything else of important secret status. I mean, he suspects a whole hell of a lot but he doesn't have any actual confirmed knowledge on anything. I've kept him in the dark just like we both decided we would."

The sheriff nodded along as he waited for his son to finish and then quietly he stated, "It's not working."

Stiles gaped open mouthed at his dad, "Come again?"

The sheriff let out a sigh and rubbed absently at his tired eyes. "Keeping Derek in the dark. It's not working, Stiles. Whether we like it or not it seems he's going to end up walking into a situation where he will encounter the lesser known side of Beacon Hills. Maybe it's about time we prepare him for it. He's been around long enough at this point that I think we can trust him. You certainly trust him. God knows I'd feel better knowing you had a partner at your side who was prepared to take on anything that might come at you two. We should stop lying to him. I'm giving you permission to sit him down and tell him absolutely everything."

Stiles slowly chewed and swallowed another bit of pancake before he quietly stated, "I won't do it." He stared angrily down at his plate of food. Food that suddenly seemed far less appealing. It left a stale taste in his mouth and he suspected that it wasn't really the food causing it. It probably had a lot more to do with the cold vice of fear that was snaking its way through Stiles at the thought of Derek being let in on Beacon's Hills' dark and dirty secrets.

His dad just looked stunned. "I thought you would want this. I know having lies between partners can be dangerous at best. It wasn't too long ago that all you wanted was to be able to come clean to Derek. What changed?"

With a determined look in his eyes Stiles looked up and said, "I realized that I'd rather have him hate me forever than risk his life by letting him take part in this whole stupid world of ours. I won't be the one to bring him into the parts of the town that want nothing more than to kill us all. You want to know what changed? I fell in love with him."

With that, he shoved an entire pancake in his mouth – more for the dramatic effect than because he wanted it – and stalked out of the kitchen without sparing a single glance towards his father.

He slammed the door of his Jeep as he got in – wondering briefly how his Jeep had even gotten back to the house, Derek had probably driven it over for him – and took off towards the hospital. How could his dad think telling Derek would be a good idea? Was everyone in this entire place set on the idea of trying to kill Derek? It would be just like this town to start a vendetta against the one cop who wasn't a threat to the supernatural.

No. Derek was safe as long as he was in the dark. Stiles wasn't going to tell him anything and he'd make sure no one else did either.

Speaking of Derek, there he was leaning against Allison's car chatting casually with the young hunter. Stiles bit back the jump of concern that filled his mind. Just because a hunter was talking to Derek didn't mean anyone had clued Derek in on anything.

 _The community of Beacon Hills is not out to kill Derek._ He repeated to himself as he tried to look casual walking up to the pair. "Allison, what brings you to the hospital?"

She smiled a little too sweetly and answered, "I'm just paying Scott's mom a visit and I ran into Derek. Thought I'd keep him company." Her eyes told a completely different story and suddenly Stiles was positive that the hunters were starting to take an interest in the Darach. Stiles searched her face for some hint of how deeply the hunters were involved in this new enemy. Completely ignoring Derek's presence Allison commented, "I'm glad you showed up, Stiles. I've been meaning to track you down and ask you something. Scott and I were in bed the other night and he did this really _weird_ thing. You've known him longer than I have so I thought I'd ask you about it."

Derek looked panicked as he glanced between the two of them for a brief moment before he seemed to come to some sort of decision. "That sounds like a wonderful cue for me to leave. I'm going to assume this conversation has something to do with Scott that I'd probably rather not know about so I'll just go. I've been here all night anyway, I need some sleep." He backed away from the two as quickly as he could.

The second he was out of earshot Allison's face became serious. Stiles admired her acting skills as he tried to prepare himself for whatever the hunter had really come to the hospital for. Softly she questioned, "What is going on Stiles? We've been tracking a rogue wolf and we've run into some bodies but none of that is exactly new. All the normal mauling's and such. These other bodies though… Stiles we know it's not the wolf and we know it's not just a human. I tried asking Scott but he didn't want me getting involved. Said something stupid about it being too dangerous." She scoffed lightly at the idea and Stiles had to admit it was pretty amusing. Without even asking her he already knew that standing in the hospital parking lot dressed in a floral print skirt and lacy blouse she probably had at least ten weapons hidden on her.

Allison was and probably always would be the most lethal girl he knew. The idea of Scott protecting her was laughable. Especially when you took into consideration that she could likely kill him in a hundred different ways before he could even get his claws out if she ever wanted to.

Not for the first time Stiles was relieved that the Argents were on his side and not the enemies.

Getting back to the serious matter at hand he stood a little straighter and looked her in the eye. For once he knew more than she did and honestly if the hunters had already decided this was their business then there was little point in trying to dissuade her. "It's a druid," he stated simply. "A dark druid to be specific. Deaton called it a Darach."

"So these are druid sacrifices." Allison murmured to herself. Her lips moved soundlessly for a few seconds as she put this new information together with the things she already knew and with one last horrified gasp she whispered, "They're after someone here. Someone at the hospital. That's why you've all been hovering here for days. You figured out the pattern." It amazed Stiles sometimes how quickly Allison could piece things together when she put her mind to it.

Allison always was brilliant. It really wasn't surprising that she would figure it all out. Stiles merely nodded in confirmation.

"Who is it?" Allison whispered. "Tell me it's not Melissa."

With a dismissive gesture Stiles assured her, "It's not anyone specific. Not that we know of. Just 'Healers' in general. Which I suppose includes Melissa but we aren't going to let anything happen to her."

Allison seemed to stand a little taller and fierceness burned in her eyes as she faced Stiles. "This isn't just a police problem anymore, Stiles. We'll post a guard here too whenever we can spare the people. If anything, anything at all, happens and we aren't here you call us in."

Stiles felt a little annoyed that she thought he couldn't handle things himself but, really, he _couldn't_ handle things himself. "I have no idea how to stop this thing, Allison." He admitted.

"We'll figure it out. Or you will. I'd bet my money on you. You always seem to be the one that finally figures out a plan while the rest of us just back you up."

Stiles allowed a small grateful smile to creep up on his face. They stood together in a companionable silence as the day crept on. From time to time one of them would walk a circle around the hospital to make sure everything was still as it should be. At other times one of them would wander through the front entrance and confirm that every doctor and nurse on shift was present and accounted for. The weird looks they received did little to dissuade them. Stiles was used to weird looks anyway.

The day started to get darker and Allison visibly suppressed a yawn as she glanced at her watch. "Erica and Lydia should be here any minute for their shift." She told Stiles happily. "I'll be glad to get away from here for awhile. I'm sure it's worse for you. You've been here for the past few days too. This was only my first watch and I'm already tired out."

"I'm fine."

Allison gave a skeptical look but didn't call him on his obvious lie. "Scott's missed you lately, Stiles. You should come home with me and have dinner. Play some video games with Scott. How long has it been since you kicked his ass at Call of Duty?"

"Thanks. I'm going to stay here a little longer though. Rain check on the dinner?"

He could see Allison forming a protest in her mind but before she had the chance to voice it they were interrupted by Lydia striding up to them with Erica close behind. Lydia smiled at Allison and asked, "Anything happening here?"

"It's been quiet. No one's been murdered and no one has been taken." Stiles answered her while Allison nodded her assent.

"Good. We'll make sure to keep it that way." Erica interjected with confidence.

Allison started to walk away but stopped after only a few paces. "Stiles," she called back over her shoulder, "can I talk to you for a second?" she waited until he was next to her and then she turned to look him in the eyes and in the deadly calm tone she usually reserved for giving orders to the Argents she told him, "If I find out that you were here all night again I will personally drag you back to your house and tie you to your bed until you have gotten some decent sleep. If you try to make some sexual joke about being tied to the bed I will slap you. You need sleep and I know that the small amount Derek managed to force you to get was no where near enough to make up for how long you have gone without any rest at all. Go home, Stiles. Soon. You do not need to be here while other people are watching the place." She quickly waved to Erica and Lydia and flashed them a warm smile – one that didn't match her threatening tone at all – and turned on her heel, retreating to her car.

As she left Stiles grumbled under his breath, "I had six hours. I'm fine."

"So what's up, Batman?" Erica asked as she strutted over to him and slung an arm around his shoulder with a grin. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Grinning again. Teasing him again. Stiles was glad for it. It had been a long time since he'd seen her smile and it was a welcome sight to have back in the precinct. "How long have you been back at the hospital?"

Stiles sent up a silent _thank you_ to Deaton for teaching him to control his heartbeat as he lied, "Just half an hour or so. I got here towards the end of Allison's shift and thought I'd stay here for yours. I'd feel useless sitting around at home."

"I understand that feeling. Course physically you're pretty useless anyway." She flashed golden eyes and allowed a little bit of pointed teeth to show through her smile to emphasize her point.

"That's not what you said the day I saved your sorry ass from those pixies a year ago." He retorted. "I seem to recall you thanking me profusely as I took them all down while you cowered in the corner."

"I was just humoring you. I could have stopped them whenever I wanted." Erica insisted. "Don't get any illusions that we need you around to protect us. We only keep you around for that brain of yours."

"Don't know why you need him for brains when you've got me," Lydia chimed in with a playful smile.

"Well obviously you guys keep me for my spectacular good looks," Stiles fired back at the two. There was a moment of silence before all three burst out laughing.

They spent a few hours laughing and joking in between their patrols. When they weren't wandering the perimeter they were crammed into Stiles' Jeep with the heat on full as they shivered and tried to get warmth back into their hands. If Stiles kept yawning the girls either didn't notice or didn't comment. If you asked Stiles though he would insist he hadn't yawned once.

As their shift drew to a close Erica shifted and stretched out sore muscles. She pulled out her phone and smiled tiredly at it. "Danny just texted. He and Jackson are on their way. You guys want to take one more trip around the perimeter before we head home?"

Lydia nodded and eased her way out of the car to follow Erica but Stiles stayed where he was. "I'll stay and keep an eye on the entrance until the others get here. You two go ahead and leave when you've done one last border check. I can tell you're tired."

That earned him another smile from Erica. Lydia just replied, "Thanks. You're not a total loser sometimes."

"Don't try to hide it, Lydia. You know you love me." He shouted as she smirked at him with humor dancing in her eyes.

"Only in your dreams, Stilinski."

Stiles watched them both head off into the early morning mist as he fought back another yawn. It was stupid really. He'd had plenty of rest to get him by for at least another day but for some reason his body hadn't gotten that memo. It kept trying to pull him further towards the welcoming black of sleep. The hard leather of the Jeep that had earlier seemed uncomfortable and harsh was starting to feel like a wonderful memory foam mattress and the heat that was blasting at him to keep him from freezing was doing little to help keep him awake.

He waved a brief goodbye to Erica and Lydia as they came back around the building and piled into Lydia's car. Stiles watched it drive away and felt a slight twinge of envy that he very firmly shoved back down. He had to stay. He had to be certain that everyone was safe.

His eyes started to drift shut again and he quickly slapped himself to get life back into his sleep-dulled brain. The morning mist was starting to lift and he considered getting outside into the cold. Maybe it would wake him up. But the Jeep was so comfortable. The heater blasting at him was relaxing and seemed almost like a blanket. In fact he was certain it was a blanket. He must be at home in bed. He was sure of it. Everything was right with the world and he was just taking a nap. His head hit the window with a soft thump as his brain slowly sunk into the unconsciousness he had been fighting off for hours.


	12. Another Body Added to the Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a few people who seemed to think Stiles was driving when he fell asleep. He wasn't. He was sitting in his Jeep at the hospital still. I just wanted to clear that up before I went on.

Stiles choked on the stench of gore in the air as he crept cautiously closer to the scene. He tried to fight back the fear that he was too late. It had been at least ten minutes since he'd heard anything from Boyd over the radio. He shuddered at the memory of the scream he'd heard right before Boyd cut out _. It had to be someone else's scream_ Stiles told himself. _Boyd is fine. His radio died and he took down the werewolf he was fighting. Now he's probably just waiting around the corner with a grin on his face as he waits to brag about it. Nothing to worry about._ He glanced down briefly when he heard a splash and his stomach lurched when he realized the puddle he had stepped in was red. Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself down but the hint of blood – of death – in the otherwise clean air only made it worse.

His hand tightened on his gun as he rounded a corner and aimed it down the long empty hallway that he now faced. His eyes scanned the darkness with precision and he lowered his gun slightly when he was confident that nothing was waiting to jump him. It took him a second to recognize that the hallway wasn't actually empty. Stiles held composure for another few seconds – his mind going blank and his vision blurring – until he was absolutely certain that the werewolf was gone. Then he doubled over and emptied everything he had eaten in a week onto the floor where it mingled with the still warm blood of his partner. Hot tears streaked down his face as his stomach heaved and rebelled against him. He didn't know when it had happened but he somehow was on all fours as he gasped for air.

His fingers scrabbled at the ground as he tried to find something solid to grasp onto. Something to make the world stop spinning wildly. Something to get the image out of his mind of the shredded pieces of Boyd laying a few yards from his collapsed form. Hands grasped him roughly, pulling him away from the sight and commanding him to breathe. When had he stopped breathing? It must have been awhile ago because now that he noticed it he could feel a burn building up in his lungs as they ached for air. Stiles dragged in a lungful. Then another.

His lungs must have had enough to live on now because without meaning to he had started whispering to himself. "I killed him. I killed Boyd. He was here because of me. I killed my partner." Words flying off his tongue as his chest ached and his body shook violently. His mind filled in the gaps where his words couldn't suffice. It tormented Stiles with the image of Boyd's smiling face, the way Boyd had looked the day Erica had agreed to marry him, the way he celebrated when he got promoted to detective, the dawning look of understanding as Stiles had sat him down and explained werewolves to him. Underneath the memories was the constant repeating sound of the last scream Boyd had ever given as his body was mangled so cruelly that it no longer even had a human form.

The hands gripping his arms slackened long enough to wrap around his torso and drag him into a tight embrace. The figure holding themself against his trembling frame rocked back and forth slowly as a hand cradled his head. Through the tears still cascading unbidden down his cheeks he could make out the sheriff's badge pinned to the chest of the person clasping him.

Stiles took in another gasping breath of air as his father whispered to him, "You couldn't have done anything. It's not your fault… It's not your fault…You need to wake up, Stiles."

"Wake up. Come on asshole, get the hell up!"

Stiles jerked awake, his face stinging from the cold of the Jeep window it had been plastered against. Jackson glared at him from outside the vehicle and Danny stood next to him looking concerned. Stiles could still feel the wet tracks of tears on his face and he hurriedly swiped at his cheeks to remove what evidence he could. Taking a moment to collect himself, he rolled his window down and did his best to act casual.

"What's up guys?" His voice _totally_ didn't crack. If it did it was because it was still raspy from sleep and not at all because he was emotionally compromised. Which he wasn't. He was fine.

Jackson raised an eyebrow at him and his gaze lingered noticeably on Stiles puffy eyes and red cheeks. A flash of emotion danced across his face but he hid it well. "Well, I feel like I should go check on the hospital. Danny, why don't you cheer up Stilinski while I'm gone." He left quickly leaving an embarrassed Stiles behind with a worried Danny.

Stiles sighed and slumped down in the seat of his Jeep. Too many days of nothing but sitting in a parking lot waiting for people to die was really starting to mess with his muscles. They ached from the near-constant cramped quarters. Gangly limbs like his were never meant for such treatment. "I'm okay, Danny. I just accidently fell asleep. Had a bad dream. No big deal."

It was obvious that the tiredness in his voice had not been missed by the ever-perceptive Danny. "How long have you been here this time, Stiles?"

"Just a few hours." Stiles tried to assure him.

"Ignoring the blatant lie, let's just restart this conversation. Stiles, how long have you been at the hospital?"

"28 hours or so…" he mumbled quietly.

"Right. That's healthy." Danny tried to sound irritated but it came out more as concern and somehow that made Stiles feel worse. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Stiles?"

He was about to answer when both men focused in on Jackson's weary sounding voice coming through both their radios. "10-57 at the hospital. Three people."

Danny glanced at Stiles before he grabbed his own radio and answered back "10-4, Jackson. Stilinski and I are on our way."

"Shit!" Stiles yelled as he punched his hand against the steering wheel. "Three more people gone. How the hell did they get three people out without anyone noticing? Damn it!" He shoved open the door and stormed his way out of the Jeep – slamming the door shut with an angry glower. "Could this day get any freaking worse?"

The crackle of the radio answered his question as Derek's quiet voice broke through with, "Code 187. We just found them. All three in front of the precinct."

All the fury flooded out of Stiles to be replaced with a cold numbness. 187. Homicide. He had been right outside the hospital, within easy distance to save them, but he'd been sleeping. _How could I be so stupid?_ He berated himself. _How could I have let myself fall asleep when I knew what was at stake?_

Danny and Stiles entered the hospital, trying to look professional and in control of a situation that they knew was getting wildly out of hand. Jackson met them at the front desk and motioned for them to follow as he led the way to the security office. The guard turned in his chair to look at the three downtrodden officers and grimly nodded his greetings.

Without a word shared between them – it seemed like the silence was too thick to be broken – they gathered around the video screens where the security guard played the tapes back for them. The first victim gave no clues. They tracked the tapes back to the moment he had come on shift and followed him from one camera to the next. At 10:47 AM he went into a patient's room and then never came out. The next victim was a similar story. He wandered into the bathroom at 10:52 and never left.

Doctor Hailey Snow, the final victim, was where they got their answer. Or at least part of one. At 10:56, as the doctor was eating an early lunch in the Cafeteria, a dark mist started forming around her. She began to visibly panic almost instantly but the fog quickly grew too thick to see any part of her. Within two minutes the mist had appeared, darkened and then disappeared again but when it was gone Dr. Snow had vanished with it.

The hush in the room was broken by Danny murmuring, "How are we supposed to fight _that_? It could take anybody at anytime and we'd never have a chance at stopping it."

No one had an answer for him.

"How many copies are there of this tape?" Stiles quietly asked the guard.

"Just this one, detective. Did you want me to make you a copy?"

"I want you to destroy the copy that exists." Stiles walked out of the room without waiting to ensure that his instructions were followed. He made it halfway down the hall before Danny caught up with him.

"Destroyed? Why?" He demanded to know.

"Because if Derek comes here looking for clues – which he will – I don't want there to be any chance at all that he would see what we just saw. Every single one of us will tell Derek that all three people were taken off camera. We have no idea how it was done. Now I'm heading to the precinct where I can help deal with the bodies of the people that I let get kidnapped."

Danny made a move to reach out to him but Stiles brushed it off and walked away as quickly as he could.

The drive to the station was uneventful so Stiles had plenty of time to mentally lecture himself for his stupidity. He fueled his own anger and self loathing because without that small fire of rage he felt like he would start to lose control. He let his fury burn and simmer under his skin as he thought of all the pain the Darach probably caused this latest round of victims. Pain Stiles should have stopped. _Could_ have stopped if he hadn't dozed off. Stiles didn't let the panic at the terror of the situation bleed into his mind because even as he fought against it he could already feel the creeping tendrils trying to pull his focus away from the present. Deep breaths and the cold feel of the steering wheel under his clenched fingers kept him grounded and kept him pissed off at himself and at the Darach that was terrorizing his town.

As he pulled in, Stiles noted that it was strange and almost surreal to see the flashing lights and yellow tape in front of the precinct. Those flashing lights belonged elsewhere. Off in town stopping crime, not here at the station. Crime wasn't supposed to happen at the station it was supposed to happen in the dark alleys and wooded areas of Beacon Hills and the valiant officers of Beacon Hills PD would race out from here to stop it. How could they race to stop a crime that had happened on their own doorstep?

Derek was off to the side of the scene deep in conversation with the Sheriff. Neither one looked happy and Stiles really didn't blame them. He steeled himself for the sight of more bodies as he pulled his lanky body out of the Jeep. The ground was solid under his feet and the feel of it helped Stiles stand a little taller as he strode towards the death he caused.

He never made it through the parking lot. One second he was walking past a truck and the next there were hands gripping his shirt and shoving him forcefully against a familiar black SUV. For a moment Stiles' eyes lingered on Derek's and he saw the slight widening of his eyes as he watched Stiles being manhandled against a vehicle and then Stiles' focus shifted to the hunter in front of him.

Voice low and dangerous, leaving little doubt how deadly he was, Chris Argent hissed out, "You were supposed to let us know if something happened, Stilinski. How are we supposed to trust that your merry band of officers can handle this when you can't even manage a task as simple as picking up a phone to tell us someone else had died?"

Stiles was flabbergasted for a second, then he tapped into the anger he had been so desperately clinging to earlier and he fired back, "Considering we only just found out about the deaths I didn't exactly have time to alert the 'Mighty Pack of Hunters'. Speaking of time, maybe I would have had more of it if your stupid boy band of werewolf murderers could actually handle their job and take care of the rogue I've been wasting my time on. Did it even occur to you that perhaps I could do my job better if you knew how to handle yours? I've lost members of my team and I've been attacked myself and you still expect me to be able to turn and focus entirely on the Darach when you clearly can't manage the werewolf?"

Chris practically growled at Stiles – who considered commenting on it but decided he wanted to live – and he tightened the fists that were still gripping Stiles' shirt. The hunter dragged Stiles away from the SUV only to shove him hard back into it. Stiles' head slammed back against the window and as stars danced in front of his vision he dully noticed Derek looking alarmed and turning to come help him.

Hot breath wafted across Stiles' face as Chris leaned closer and furiously whispered to him, "The rogue is none of your concern. We're handling it. The deaths were unfortunate but we've picked up its trail and will be able to make the kill soon. So I suggest you figure out what to do about this Darach before we finish off the wolf because the second it's dead we're focusing on the newest threat. I don't believe you want that. Last I checked you seem to take issue with some of our methods and with our view on collateral damage. Trust me, if the Darach becomes my problem I will blow up the entire town to stop it if I have to. I recommend you figure this out before it comes to that. If you had stopped trying to hunt the wolf you would probably have already stopped the Darach. Those deaths," Chris forced Stiles to look towards the crime scene, "are on your hands."

"I know"

The broken tone of voice stunned Chris more than the words themselves. His hands loosened a fraction and he hardly even noticed the rapidly approaching Derek. Instead he was focused on Stiles as the young man continued to talk.

"It's my fault. I get it. I was right there and I didn't do a damn thing to stop them from dying. I was busy sleeping in my car right outside the freaking doors. It should have been me that died." Tears were flowing freely down his face and his breath was coming in small hiccupping gasps.

Strong hands reached out and pried Chris's fingers from Stiles and then those same hands caught Stiles as he slid towards the ground. Chris backed up quickly, not sure how to handle this turn of events. He spat out one last warning to Stiles that he needed to handle the situation before the Argents had to step in and handle it for him.

Stiles was beyond the point of paying attention. The anger had faded out of him and left behind nothing but panic and guilt. Derek knelt beside him on the ground questioning him about what the hell had just happened but all Stiles could focus on was the pain in his chest as his lungs burned and his vision blurred.

It didn't take long for Derek took figure out that Stiles was having trouble breathing. He did keep murmuring, "All my fault," over and over but Derek suspected he wasn't even conscious of the action. The hollow drags of breath that Stiles pulled in seemed to do little to help and Derek reached out to Stiles with concern as he tried to figure out what the hell to do.

A pounding sound filled Stiles' head and he clamped hands down on his ears to try drowning it out but it didn't stop. He could feel the current of blood under his skin and the cry of a body that demanded oxygen it was not receiving. Stiles felt something moving closer to him and in a blind panic he lashed out; hitting the person or thing with as much force as he could muster.

Derek ignored the flash of pain as Stiles fist connected with his chest. Undeterred he reached out again and when the hand came out to drive him back he grabbed it and held on. His fingers shifted until he gripped Stiles wrist and he dragged the panicked man's hand to him until it lay flat against his chest. Derek forced himself to breathe deeply as he softly begged Stiles to breathe with him – to match his steady breaths.

The heat against his hand startled Stiles enough to make him pay attention. He couldn't see past the tears and couldn't hear anything beyond the rushing of blood in his ears but he could feel the sturdiness of something beneath his hand. He latched onto that feeling like a lifeline and he focused in on the steady movement under his fingers. The movement seemed familiar. As if it was something he too should be doing. He tried it out, taking in a deeper breath of air instead of the shallow quick ones that had been starving his body. He felt lungs expanding in his chest and the darkness that had been creeping into his vision cleared a little. Enough that he could see Derek in front of him – could see his lips moving and his eyes filled with concern. He saw his hand on Derek's chest as he felt it move again. Again he matched it with a breath of his own and relief crossed Derek's face as he realized Stiles was starting to breathe normally again.

Sound swept back in as Stiles pulled in another gasp of air. The first thing he heard was Derek's steady voice telling him he was doing good, asking him to keep breathing. Then he heard the roar of engines driving past on the nearby road and the chatter of voices from across the parking lot. His eyes stung with tears still and his hand was tangled in Derek's shirt – gripping it as if it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

His breath came steadier now and he blinked to clear the lingering fog from his eyes. He forced his hand to loosen and release Derek's shirt but as he pulled his hand away Derek caught it in his own firm grip. Derek's fingers brushed lightly against Stiles knuckles and he used the hand to gently pull Stiles to him. His arms wrapped around the younger man and he whispered into his ear, "It's okay. You're okay now. You're safe."

They stayed like that for a while. The stable arms around Stiles slowly easing his trembling as his body adjusted to having the much needed oxygen back in its system.

"Did I punch you?"

Derek let out a laugh and he drew back from Stiles with a smile. "Yeah. It was a good punch too."

Stiles absently rubbed his hand as he replied, "I can tell. My hand hurts." He allowed a small sheepish grin to escape him as he murmured an apology.

"I'll forgive you," Derek said, "If you'll explain to me what the hell Chris said that go you so upset? What was he even doing here? It looked like he was attacking you."

"He was just mad at me. He's scared for the town – like everyone is – and he thinks I should have figured out how to stop the deaths by now. He wanted to make sure I understood that the longer I take to solve this the more people die."

"You make it sound like he actually blames you for the deaths."

"He does. For good reason. It _is_ my fault. I shouldn't have focused on more than one case at once. I should just have let Chris handle the other one like always so I could focus on the sacrifices."

"Stiles, you _have_ to know this isn't your fault. You're not the one killing anyone." Derek paused as if considering whether to say his next words. "If I ask you why Chris would have anything to do with 'handling' your other case would you tell me?"

Guilt filled Stiles eyes as he struggled to find another lie that could answer Derek's question. Instead he went for the age old method of redirection. "So, the next grouping is supposed to be Philosophers. What do you think that even means?"

Derek made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as anger bubbled up in him. "I don't know, Stiles. Just go figure it out on your own like you do everything else." He stormed away.

Stiles watched sadly as he went but his mind quickly started to churn as he pondered what a Philosopher could be. He talked quietly to himself as he thought, "Philosophers, philosophers, philosophers. Philosophy. The study of knowledge. So a philosopher would be someone well versed in knowledge. Famous philosophers. Plato, Confucius, John Locke, Rene Descartes… What did they all have in common? They all pursued knowledge and then shared it with others. They taught it to them. Taught. Teaching. Teacher." He pumped a celebratory fist in the air as he declared, "Teachers! The Darach is going to go for teachers!"

He forgot entirely about the crime scene that he had never quite made it to. He headed straight back to his Jeep and ignored the red and blue lights still flashing behind him. He got in excitedly, feeling more energetic than he had in days. He was going to camp out at the school and stop the Darach. This time he would be able to. He _had_ to.

He pulled out onto the road and pressed the gas – going a little faster than was necessarily legal. The smile on his face dimmed a fraction when he first noticed the fog clouding his eyes. He blinked quickly to clear them but the fog didn't go away. Eyes widening in fear he tried to wave the mist away from him as he desperately strained to still see the road in front of his Jeep. His foot slammed the brake and the Jeep skidded – tires squealing – and Stiles fought to maintain control of the wheel as the vehicle strained against the sudden stop. With a lurch the Jeep tilted nauseatingly and it rolled. It kept sliding as the metal screeched and bent under the force of the movement until with a sickening crunch it hit something and jolted to a stop.

Stiles couldn't tell what he had hit. His head swam and he felt a slow trickle of something warm coming from a spot on his temple that ached dully. He ignored all of that. He shoved away the pains springing up all over his body from the impact. The fog around him was still very present and still very much darkening. He focused on a plan.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and typed out a one word text message as quickly as he could. He sent it to Derek and then almost immediately sent a second text just in case the first message hadn't been clear. He hoped it would be enough. It was only after the texts had sent that he cursed himself for choosing Derek. He should have sent them to Scott, or Isaac, or literally anyone else. Reaching out to Derek had been his first instinct and now it was too late to take it back. If – and that was a big if – Derek managed to find him, Stiles suspected that Beacon Hills' secrets would no longer be unknown to his partner.

The fog finally started to dissipate just as he crammed his cell back in his pocket clumsily. The edges of his vision were blurring and his head burned from where it had viciously smacked against the Jeep. He glanced quickly around at the cold concrete walls surrounding him – the movements making his head swim even more – but couldn't decide where exactly he had been relocated to. Not that knowing would have done him any good.

"You're just getting a little too close for comfort" Came a voice from behind him. He turned to see his madly grinning English teacher just before her image morphed into a pale and scarred face that would haunt him forever. He hardly had time to register who it was before the rushing black of unconscious finally pulled him under with one final jab of pain from his abused head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! This fic is almost done! It'll be up soon I promise.


	13. The Darach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap I am so sorry! It's been like two months since I updated. I got reallly busy because I started full time college on top of the full time job I already have. My writing time just flew out the window and suddenly it was two months later. Anyway, here's a short-ish chapter. I have one more chapter that is typed and I just need to check for spelling errors and such one last time. It will be up later tonight.
> 
> I am never writing a chapter fic again. I am terrible at updating.

Derek's phone emitted a brief melody alerting him to a new text. It was probably Stiles trying to apologize for what had happened in the parking lot. He considered ignoring it out of spite – really he was _very_ annoyed at Stiles' constant refusal to answer his questions – but ultimately he decided being childish wouldn't solve anything. He dragged the phone out of his pocket, noted that the text was – as suspected – from Stiles, and opened it.

It was only one word and Derek looked at in in confusion. "Darach." What was Stiles trying to tell him about the Darach? He tried to think like Stiles, so he could decipher what the boy had meant but he couldn't quite grasp an answer. It didn't help that trying to think like Stiles was nearly impossible. His mind turned from one thought to the next far faster than anyone else's. Did he have a new theory about the Darach? Had he figured out the next targets? Stiles had an awful habit of only saying part of his thought and then assuming the rest the world would catch up to him. He was always somehow surprised to find that his mind had left other people in the dust. Then the phone in Derek's hand jingled merrily again and a second message popped up on the screen.

He froze as he stared down at the small word. "Help." One simple word that made his blood run cold and his heart race in fear. Stiles needed help. Everything clicked into place as the first text became disarmingly clear. The Darach had gotten to Stiles.

The Darach. The psycho who thought they had some sort of magical powers. The Darach who kidnapped and murdered people freely. Had Stiles been kidnapped too? Was the Darach killing him? Was he already dead? No. He couldn't be. Stiles was too smart to let himself die that easily. He was probably busy debating with the Darach about the merits of keeping him alive. More than likely he was winning that debate. Though Stiles probably had a high chance of annoying the Darach so thoroughly that they decided to kill him just to shut him up. If Stiles was going to die, chances were pretty good it would be because he just wouldn't shut his mouth.

Stiles was going to die.

Derek took a deep breath, concentrating on not hyperventilating. He swallowed down the sick feeling rising up in him and he composed himself enough to try calling Stiles.

He hadn't expected it to work but it still sent fresh fear surging though him when he heard Stiles' bright and chipper voice telling him to, "Leave a message if you want to. If not hang up. I'll know you called though so if you don't leave a message I'll assume you're some kind of creeper just wanting to listen to my voice. It's understandable, my voice is damn sexy, but dude you need a life."

Derek practically snarled at the phone in frustration as he hung up and shoved the offending item back into his pocket. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and as quickly as he could he explained to anyone listening that they needed to find Stiles. Now. Then he marched to his car – growling at it in frustration when it took it's time starting up – and drove off in the direction he'd last seen Stiles heading.

He had gone barely two miles when he saw Stiles' Jeep. He almost wished he hadn't. It was turned over on its side, curled partway around a tree, and smoke drifted lazily up from the hood. Derek slammed on his brakes and came to a screeching halt on the road beside the wreckage. He stared at it in horror as he fought to stop the rising panic inside him.

The smell of burned rubber registered dimly in the back of his mind as he approached the familiar blue Jeep. When he was near enough to look inside he didn't know if he should be relieved or even more worried about the fact that Stiles wasn't in there. Was it better to have a missing Stiles in the hands of the Darach or to just have dying Stiles bleeding out in his broken car? Neither option particularly appealed to Derek.

"There's not a whole lot of blood." Said a voice from behind him.

Derek spun around to find Scott staring at the smoking wreck from a few feet away. "How did you get here so fast?"

"Dude, it's like a mile and a half from the station. It wasn't exactly hard to find." Scott offered with a shrug. "The important thing is that there's not a lot of blood. Either he wasn't too badly hurt in the crash, or the Darach got him out of the Jeep before he had a chance to bleed much. He could still be bleeding out in a warehouse somewhere."

Derek shook his head. "We'd see drag marks if he was bleeding still when the Darach got him."

Scott looked like he wanted to say something to that – like he wanted to correct Derek – but instead he turned towards Derek's car and gestured for him to follow. That was when Derek noticed that Scott's car was missing.

"You didn't drive here?" He asked quietly; almost more to himself than to Scott. "That's not possible. You can't have gotten here so soon without a vehicle." Silence met his statement as Scott opened Derek's car door. "Why are you getting into the driver's seat? That's my car. Scott, get the hell out of my seat!"

After a determined look and a movement that was clearly designed to tell Derek he needed to sit in the passenger seat, Scott turned the keys and waited impatiently for Derek. With a glare, Derek slid in next to Scott.

"Sorry man," Scott explained. "You just look a bit shaken up by this and I don't really want you driving right now. Last thing we need is to wreck _our_ car on our way to saving Stiles from whatever wrecked _his_ car."

Derek hadn't really noticed it until Scott mentioned it, but his hands were shaking and his breathing was shorter and faster than normal. He clenched his fists to stop the trembling as he focused on deep breaths and the fact that there hadn't been much blood. Stiles was probably fine. They were going to find him, rescue him, and finally take down the Darach all at once. They just had to figure out where to look. Though wherever Stiles was, Derek was pretty certain it wasn't the Vet Clinic. Which was where he inexplicably found himself.

"What the _hell_ are you doing Scott? We need to come up with a plan to find Stiles. We have to get back to the precinct. Why are we at Dr. Deaton's?"

"Just… trust me. Please. You know that 'Big Bad Secret' we're all keeping from you? Believe me when I say that it is 100% relevant right now and that Deaton is the best resource we have to deal with it."

"To deal with _what_ exactly?"

Scott glanced at him without a word and promptly left Derek fuming in the passenger seat of his own Camaro. Angrily, Derek thrust open his car door, slammed it shut behind him, and strode into the clinic after Scott.

Deaton was already letting Scott into the back of the vet office and Derek followed all while glaring at the back of Scott's head. He couldn't for the life of him figure out a good reason to look for Stiles at the veterinarian's. Scott's time wasting could be the death of Stiles.

"The Darach has Stiles." Scott blurted out with no preamble the moment Derek had joined them in the back room.

Deaton sighed heavily and replied, "I was afraid this would happen at some point. I know Stiles is doing the best he can but sometimes he needs to remember that he's in more danger than the rest of us. Until he finishes his training with me, he has got to stop angering people that are stronger than him."

To say Derek was confused would be an understatement, "His… his _training_ with you? Stiles is a detective, why is he training under you? Why would he need to learn about being a vet? More importantly, how does any of that factor into him being taken? The Darach isn't targeting veterinarians."

"Stiles is learning something from me that is altogether different from my usual profession. It has to do with him being taken because once his training is complete he will be much better equipped to deal with this kind of enemy. Though with his skill and power, he is fairly well equipped already if he just knew the proper methods. Unfortunately, he jumps into danger regardless of whether or not he is prepared for it. That boy has no regard for his own safety when it means saving someone else."

Deaton seemed to feel he had explained enough to Derek so he turned to his cabinets and started grabbing things. As he collected a small pile of plants and unidentifiable objects, he talked. "Scott, I'm going to give you a jar of powdered mistletoe. That should be enough to repel her temporarily. Get Stiles out and get him back here to me. I have a plan to take her down permanently but I need Stiles' help to do it. I'll work on what I can before he gets here." With that Deaton slid a jar of white powder towards Scott and with a furtive glance Derek's way he added, "If you have to change in front of him to save Stiles, do it."

"I was already planning on it." Scott assured the older man.

Derek meanwhile just stood staring at the two as if they were speaking a foreign language. "Mistletoe? How is a plant going to save anyone? What do you mean about Scott changing?" Really he was getting very aggravated about constantly feeling like he was two steps behind the rest of the town. This giant gap in his knowledge of what was going on had never bothered him more than it did right now with Stiles' life on the line.

Scott gave a noncommittal shrug and replied, "You'll find out when you need to."

Fury flashed through Derek. He tried to keep his voice steady as he hissed out, "Stiles could by _dying_ , might already be dead, and you're _still_ wasting time trying to hide things from me? Aren't we past that?" He forced himself to take a calming breath and then in a quieter but no less angry tone he asked, "Is it really _worse_ for me to know what the hell is going on than it is for Stiles to die?"

For half a second Scott looked sorry for Derek, "If it helps, I'm pretty sure that you will have all the answers you want by the end of the day. It's not my place to tell you though. Not unless you truly _have_ to know. Stiles is the one that needs to make that call and I won't go behind his back. Make him answer your questions when we see him next because honestly I think at this point you deserve to know. Now, we need to focus on finding Stiles."

"He's at the bank on the corner of National." Interjected Deaton. When he received confused looks from both of the detectives he explained, "I looked at where the ley lines cross on the map. If the Darach is following the pattern I think it is, Stiles will be there."

"Good enough for me." Scott said, grabbing the jar of mistletoe, "Let's go."

* * *

Stiles didn't know how long he had been unconscious and he didn't want to risk getting out his phone to see the time. Better to hang on to his phone in case he had a chance to use it later. His head throbbed and he could still feel the small trickle of blood cooling on the side of his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that he was lucky he had made it out of the crash with only a minor head wound. It could have been a lot worse. Closer to the front of his mind however, he realized that surviving the crash did very little good if he was about to be killed by his old High School English teacher.

He always had hated her class.

Probably would have hated it more if he had known she was evil. Actually, on second thought, he had always kind of believed she was evil. He just hadn't thought she was the _supernatural_ kind of evil.

Right now though, even though her face had morphed back to its usual and more beautiful self, Ms. Jennifer Blake was quite possibly the scariest person he had ever seen. Stiles stood up a little taller, pasted on a joking grin, and did what he did best. He talked. "Hey, Ms. Blake. I didn't expect to see you here. Or at all. I kind of thought once I escaped your class I'd never have to see you again. I'm kind of wishing I had done my book reports like I was supposed to instead of turning in detailed essays on the prevalence of homosexuality in Ancient Greece. Though to be fair to myself, that was an _excellent_ essay."

"Yes. You were one of the more annoying students." Jennifer said thoughtfully, "That should make it easier to kill you."

Stiles took a step back in mock surprise, "Whoa! _Kill_ me? Ms. Blake, why would you want to kill me? I mean, obviously you've killed a few people already, but I'm cool with not telling anybody. I don't even fit your Super Special Sacrifice qualifications so I really don't see a benefit to killing me. Especially because if there's one body you don't want turning up in the morgue it's the body of the Sheriff's son. He finds me on that slab and he won't stop at arresting you, he'll kill you. Really nothing but bad things happen to you if you kill me, so why would you do it? I'm much better alive. I much prefer myself alive. Why don't we just agree to not change my status as a living person?"

"Because you irritate me." She answered, "Because you know too much and have gotten far too close. Because I have known you long enough to know, that if I let you live, the first thing you would do is tell your father who I am."

"That's where you're wrong. "Stiles interjected. "What good would it be to tell anyone when I have no proof?"

The Darach scoffed at him, "When did you start needing proof? Don't you usually just get your werewolf friends to take care of any problems you can't handle with legal methods?"

"Werewolves? What are you talking about? Werewolves aren't real." Okay, so that was possibly the worst attempt at lying he had ever done. Really it wasn't his fault; he spent all his time with friends who could detect a lie in his heartbeat. He didn't exactly have much use for developing superb lying skills. Jennifer arched an eyebrow at him and Stiles slumped a little in defeat. "Yeah, okay, so I have werewolves on my side." He perked up a little as an idea struck him. "If anything that should just convince you to let me live. You don't want werewolves hunting you because they find my horribly mutilated body and want revenge."

"You keep assuming that I'm going to leave a body behind." It was amazing really how casually she could say that. "If you just happen to disappear and there happens to be evidence that you left town then no one will realize you died until far too late. Because you're right, I don't want the Sheriff and the wolves after me for revenge. Though, without you leading them I doubt they would ever get anywhere close to figuring out who I am. I hate to admit it, I really do, but you are the brains behind the entire law enforcement or Beacon Hills."

Stiles didn't know if he should feel proud of himself or insulted for his friends. He settled for just being angry at the entire situation. If he focused on the anger it was easier to ignore the stinging pain of his head and much easier to pretend that he wasn't terrified. He told himself that someone would find him in time. He had sent the text to Derek long enough ago that he had probably found the Jeep already and was well on the way to finding him.

Not that he would know where to look.

Or have any way to stop the Darach.

Honestly, thinking about it more, if Derek did show up he would probably die too.

Shit.

He was dragged from his thoughts by the cackling laugh coming from the Darach. "You probably thought that you could buy time for yourself by talking. Thankfully, I had two years of listening to your inane babble in my class and I am more than ready to shut you up. Trust me when I say I have no reason at all to listen to your stalling."

"I wasn't stalling, I was just trying to point out to you what a spectacularly bad idea this is."

"I'll take my chances."

Jennifer drew a symbol slowly in the air in front of her as she seemed to concentrate hard on something. Power crackled around her and Stiles did not fail to notice the vicious gleam in her eyes.

He also very definitely noticed the sudden pain flooding through every nerve in his body. His legs buckled underneath him as the pain hit and he fell to the ground with a scream. It felt like he was on fire. He wondered briefly if he actually _was_ on fire. His hands scrabbled at the cold floor trying to crawl away at the same time that he curled his body in on itself trying to escape the agony. Black curled at the edges of his vision and his ears rang with the sound of his own hollow cries.


	14. Everything Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter. So sorry , again, for taking so long with updates. I am a terrible person.

Derek and Scott pulled up in front of the old bank Deaton had directed them to. Derek had every intention of figuring out a plan first instead of just barging in on who knows what. Plans tend to change when you hear a blood-curdling scream. Derek took off without Scott and ran as quickly as he could towards the sounds of Stiles' pain. He had his gun drawn and the safety off before he even entered the building.

Stiles' yells drew him to one of the vaults deep inside the bank. Derek slowed long enough to peer around the corner and assess the situation. Stiles was on the ground on the far side of the room. Something was clearly hurting him but Derek couldn't see what it was for the life of him. In front of Stiles, with her back to the door, stood a woman that Derek had to assume was the psychopath they had been searching for all along.

"Turn around and put your hands up." Derek demanded, stepping fully into the doorway with his gun raised. The Darach made no sign that she had even heard him. In fact the only change in the room was Stiles' screams getting, if possible, louder. "I won't ask again. Turn around and put your hands on your head or I will shoot."

He gave her one last chance to surrender and then with little remorse he tightened his finger on the trigger and watched as the bullet hit the Darach. He expected to see her stumble, fall to the ground, react in some way to the fact that she had just been shot. He expected that to be the end of it. Instead he stared in horror as the wound healed itself over in seconds.

She turned to him with annoyance on her face and started casually walking closer. Stiles' screaming had stopped finally though Derek wasn't sure if it was because the pain had stopped or because he was dead. Stiles had to still be alive. Derek wouldn't allow himself to think of any other possibility.

He fired another shot at the approaching woman but she hardly flinched. Her eyes flicked to something to the side of him just as Derek felt someone shove him out of the doorway. Scott flung the contents of the jar at the Darach and with a hiss she vanished into thin air leaving behind a few wisps of black mist.

"Deaton said it wouldn't kill her," Scott mused, "Which means she's still out there. Take care of Stiles while I try to figure out where she went. I'll meet you guys back at Deaton's soon." With that, Scott was out of the bank and Derek was left staring into the dark vault with the slumped over form of the man he loved.

In that moment, unable to even see if he was still breathing, all the lies Stiles had told seemed so stupid a thing to be mad about. What did a few lies matter compared to the thought of losing Stiles forever? Sure, Derek was still unhappy about having secrets kept from him, but he would rather Stiles keep everything in the world a secret if it meant him living. He _had_ to keep living. That pale form crumpled on the floor _had_ to still be alive.

Derek approached Stiles slowly, searching desperately for some sign of movement. The fear of what he might find was wrapped around his chest; suffocating him. His heart leapt when he got near enough to see the shaky rise and fall of Stiles' chest. He crossed the remaining distance swiftly and knelt down beside his partner. Stiles let out a low groan of pain as he opened his eyes to look at Derek.

"Remind me not to get kidnapped again." Stiles forced out. "That was really unpleasant. I don't recommend it at all."

Derek let out a sigh of relief and resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. If Stiles was making jokes already he would probably be fine. Still, Derek winced at the sharp intake of breath Stiles took when he pushed himself to a sitting position.

Quietly, trying not to sound panicked, Derek asked, "What the hell just happened Stiles?"

"I got attacked." Stiles brushed off with a wave of his hand. "It happens."

"Stiles, what was she doing to you? How the hell did she heal from a bullet wound in less than five seconds? How did she disappear?" Derek kept his voice soft and his hands were gently running over Stiles, checking for any sign of physical injury. Pleadingly, Derek whispered, "I know you don't expect me to believe any of that was normal."

Stiles sunk in on himself a little and he whispered sadly, "No. I don't. I really don't. I know you're not stupid and that you've probably figured out a hell of a lot more than I ever wanted you to know." He looked Derek in the eyes and tried one last time to implore Derek not to pry. "Don't you _understand_? I got attacked because I knew too much. How could I possibly put you in the same position by telling you everything?"

"Because I'm going to keep trying to find out. I'm going to keep trying to protect you from whatever the hell is happening. At this point I think I am in _more_ danger because I keep barging in on things that I know nothing about. Besides, shouldn't it be my decision? You have more than thoroughly warned me about the risk I am taking – hell, I just watched a woman recover from a bullet as if nothing had happened, I think I am aware that there is danger – and I still choose to know what is going on."

"Werewolves." Stiles blurted out.

"Stiles, I'm being serious."

"I know." Stiles said, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes. "You're right. You need to know. I shouldn't have kept it from you this long. The answer you are looking for is werewolves." Stiles held a finger up to stop Derek's protests. "No, I'm not joking around. You want to know the secret? That's it. Scott's a werewolf, Jackson's a werewolf, Isaac's a werewolf… The town is overrun with werewolves. The wolves seem to draw in other wolves and apparently now a Darach. The sacrifices she was doing were real magic. Deaton is a druid, but a good one. I'm training under him, so I guess that kind of makes me a druid too. Allison's dad, Chris, is a hunter. He used to hunt all werewolves but lately he came to a truce with Scott's pack and they leave each other alone." Stiles stopped for breath and Derek blinked owlishly at him.

"You're serious?"

"Afraid so. The random attacks that were happening? Rogue werewolf. He killed my last partner and he bit Jackson. Turned Jackson into even more of a moody asshole than he already was. Scott got bit when we were in High School and we've been fighting the supernatural elements of Beacon hills ever since. It gets ugly in this town, but someone has to be willing to fight for Beacon Hills and somehow it ended up being me and Scott. Everyone else just got dragged along with us."

Derek leaned back a bit as he absorbed all the new information. He connected all the bits and pieces that he had wondered about and saw how they all fit into this new knowledge. Stiles' back injury was a scratch from a wolf. The conversation he had overheard at Jackson's so long ago was Stiles and the Sheriff trying to control Jackson's werewolf. It seemed crazy but every piece of it made sense.

"You alright, Derek?" Stiles asked softly. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"Yeah," Derek murmured dazedly. "I'm fine. What about you? What was she doing to you? Are you going to be okay?"

"It was just an attempt to kill me." He casually waved off Derek's concerns. "No big deal. I was lucky that she really hated me. If she had wanted to kill me quickly I'd have been dead. I only lived because she wanted to draw it out. No permanent harm done though. She didn't have nearly enough time for that." Derek still looked at him with worry in his eyes so Stiles made a point of standing up and looking at Derek with a raised eyebrow. "See? I'm fine."

Derek just looked at the stubborn man in front of him and he felt something inside him melt. He supposed this is what it felt like to forgive someone. The lies that had built up between them were gone and the anger faded with it. He had almost lost Stiles today and that was more than enough to make Derek regret ever pushing Stiles away. In fact, all he wanted to do was pull him closer now.

Stiles stiffened briefly when he felt Derek's arms around him but he quickly wrapped his own arms around the older man. For just a brief moment everything was alright. Derek reassured himself that Stiles was alive and in his arms. He was warm and breathing and the sound of his screaming was just an echo in his mind.

The moment was over when Stiles murmured, "I imagine we're supposed to go to Deaton's? There's mistletoe all over the floor and that means Deaton helped you. Which probably means he wants to lecture me about being reckless."

Derek chuckled. "It's a lesson you still very much need to learn."

"Never going to happen." Stiles grinned. "Now, we should go."

* * *

"I couldn't catch her. I don't know where she went." Scott said as he met them at the door when they arrived at Deaton's. "Stiles, do you have any ideas? You always have ideas." There was a brief pause before Scott said, "Why is Derek looking at me like I've grown a third eyeball?"

"Spend a minute thinking about it and I'm sure you'll figure out the answer." Stiles replied, patting Scott on the shoulder lightly as he continued into the vet clinic.

The werewolf's face scrunched up in thought and Derek chose that moment to ask, "So do you turn into an actual wolf or is it more a cross between human and wolf?"

A look of realization crossed Scott's features followed by a bright grin. "He finally told you." Scott beamed at Derek for a moment before answering his question, "It's a cross between wolf and human. Though some werewolves can turn full wolf. Never mind that though, how does it feel to finally know about us? I am going to be so much happier now. You have no idea how many times I nearly told you something on accident. I've spent too many years around Stiles and his habit of thinking before speaking has kind of worn off on me."

Deaton's annoyed voice drifted out to them, "If you could all get around to actually coming into my office, there is the rather important matter of planning how to take care of the Darach."

Sheepishly, Scott grinned at Derek. "Now I've gotten us in trouble. My bad." They made their way back to where Stiles and Deaton were deep in conversation.

To Derek's surprise Scott stopped dead and growled – literally growled – out, "No. Stiles, don't be an idiot. That isn't an option."

Stiles glanced up, annoyed, at his best friend. "It's not really your call is it?"

Derek looked between the two of them and then to Deaton who looked frustrated. "I'm missing something here. What are we suddenly all so angry about?"

"Stiles is suggesting that he be used as bait to get the Darach to reveal herself." Scott ground out between clenched teeth. _Sharp_ clenched teeth. That was going to weird Derek out for a while.

"She'll come back for me." Stiles insisted. "She wanted to kill me for knowing too much before and I know even more. There's no way she'll be content to let me live when I know who she is. If we can figure out how to defeat her then we can stop her when she comes to kill me."

Derek glared at Stiles, "I'm not letting you be bait."

"How is it any more your decision than it is Scott's? I may be wrong here, but I'm pretty certain the only one who has a right to decide what I do with myself is me. If you have any other ideas for how to draw out the Darach then I am all ears."

"You still haven't fully recovered from earlier. Why the hell would you throw yourself at her again? She really will kill you this time."

"I'm fine. Honestly the pain wore off on the drive over. Besides, she'll come after me regardless. I'd much rather have a trap waiting for her when she arrives instead of being completely unprepared."

"Good," Deaton interjected. "That's all settled then. Now here's the plan."

* * *

Stiles slid into the car next to Derek and they headed to the warehouse that they had chosen for their trap. It was well hidden from prying eyes. Derek glanced over at Stiles as he drove and saw a fierce determination burning in him.

"Are we going to be able to pull this off?" Derek asked quietly.

"We're going to kick Ms. Blake's ass." Came the reassuring answer. Stiles grinned at him and then grabbed Derek's free hand in his own. "We're going to be fine. Both of us."

Derek gently squeezed Stiles hand in response as he made the turn onto the winding dirt road that led to the warehouse. Stiles busied himself with making sure that they had everything they needed before they arrived. He also did his best not to freak out about bringing Derek into a potentially dangerous situation with a crazy, dark druid.

Derek searched for a spot to park that was well hidden from the entrance to the building, Stiles hopped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. In his hand he clutched the bag Deaton had given him and he immediately opened it and started sprinkling the contents around the perimeter of the warehouse. Scott pulled his police cruiser in behind Derek's Camaro and he started following after Stiles double checking that the line of powder was unbroken. His werewolf eyes were far better equipped to see the smallest gaps in the circle.

Derek leaned on the hood of his car wishing there was something more he could do at this point. Waiting seemed like torture and he kept worrying that the Darach would show up to kill Stiles before they were ready for her. He shuddered at the memory of Stiles' screams and the thought of just how ineffective a bullet had been against her. Which was no wonder really now that he knew she possessed real magic.

Magic. Werewolves. Druids.

He had to admit he did not see that coming.

He didn't even know if the plan was a good one because he had no idea how these sort of things worked. All he knew was that Stiles was in danger and he didn't like that. Though Stiles had made a good point when he said that he would be in danger regardless. It was better to be prepared.

So here they were at an abandoned warehouse – seriously why did this town have so many abandoned buildings? – preparing a trap for a powerful dark druid. What could go wrong? All they had to do was time everything perfectly and somehow all stay alive.

Stiles hopped up to sit in the hood of the car next to Derek. "You look awfully grumpy over here." He joked.

"Grumpy is my default state. Hadn't you noticed that yet?"

"You make a fine point." Stiles grinned back at him. He had obviously finished pouring most of a circle of whatever that concoction was Deaton had given him around the building. There was a small gap right at the entrance to the warehouse that Derek could see even from the Camaro and he once again found himself wondering if this would really work. What could dust do against a powerful druid? Then again, if Deaton was telling the truth, Stiles was a pretty powerful druid himself. Looking at the pale-skinned, fragile man next to him it was hard to picture Stiles commanding any sort of powerful magic.

Scott joined them both a minute later after going carefully over Stiles work and making sure it was solid. Now all they had to do was wait.

* * *

"Oh my _god_ I am so insanely bored." Stiles yelled from inside the warehouse. "Can someone just kill me now and do the Darach a favor?"

Derek frowned and Scott started laughing. Scott and Derek were in the Camaro which was as hidden from the view of the warehouse as they could make it. Stiles, however, was sitting in the building all by himself and the string of curses and complaints about boredom had been going basically non-stop.

So far Stiles had resisted the urge to just stand up and leave which was good. His impatience was not overpowering his logic yet. It was absolutely crucial that he be in the warehouse when the Darach arrived.

After over two hours of waiting nervously for the entrance of Ms. Blake, she appeared. Quite literally out of thin air with nothing but the tell-tale wisps of fading black mist to show what had happened. Stiles squeaked in surprise and stumbled back a step because really she was far closer than he wanted her to be.

"I bet you are wondering why I called you here today." Stiles said to her in a joking tone.

Scott perked up instantly from the seat next to Derek. His keen ears listened intently for the second part of their code.

"Sorry, I've just always wanted to say that." Stiles laughed.

Scott leapt into action. He grabbed the bag of fine powder Stiles had given him earlier and he darted as quietly as he could to the one part of the circle Stiles hadn't drawn. With quick movements, he sprinkled the last of the dust on the ground and closed the circle. He had told Stiles to give him 60 seconds and it had taken him less than 40. Now he just had to hope his friend got out as planned.

"You know, saying that always seems so much cooler in the movies." Stiles continued to ramble. "I'm pretty sure it would have helped if I had a spinning chair. Then I could have turned slowly around to face you while I said it and I would have looked like the cool villain in basically every movie ever. Course, you're the villain here so it might not really be my place to take that spot from you." As he talked Stiles counted in his head to make sure Scott had enough time to finish. As soon as he hit 60 he started backing towards the door as casually as he could manage. "Do you prefer to be called a 'villain' or 'villainess' or should I just use the blanket term of 'evil'? I mean, I don't want to offend you by calling you the wrong kind of evil."

With a murderous look – which was really quite fitting seeing as she was there for murder – Jennifer lifted her hand into the air. Stiles found himself being thrown against the wall of the building and he gasped as the air was driven out of him. He crumpled to the ground breathing heavily and trying to convince his heart to stop beating so hard.

"That," He panted, "was not nice at all. I was trying to be a polite sacrifice and you just throw me into a wall? What the hell?"

"I was hoping it would shut you up." She smirked back at him.

"Well that would have been a good plan." Stiles said as he dragged himself to his feet. With a swift movement he darted to the door and threw it open, "The only flaw is that you got me closer to where I needed to be. Thanks for that."

"It won't do you any good to run." Jennifer shouted after him. "I'll just track you down again." She strode to the door and was surprised to find Stiles still standing just outside of it. Behind him stood Scott and even further back was Derek. Jennifer tried to take another step closer to Stiles but she found she couldn't reach him. He grinned wickedly at her and pointed at the dirt in front of her. A fine line of white powder decorated the earth and she knew instantly what had happened. "When I get out of this damn barrier," She snarled at Stiles, "I will kill you as slowly as possible and I will enjoy every second of it."

He just sauntered away with a smug smile on his face.

Scott came closer he glared at her.

"So, what is your plan now wolf? You have me trapped, but you can't keep me here forever and you certainly aren't planning on letting me go."

"Don't worry." Scott bit back at her, "We know what we're doing."

Jennifer turned away from the werewolf angrily. She stalked back to the center of the building that had become a prison and she started pacing around the perimeter. Derek joined Scott at the door and the two watched in silence as she muttered to herself. An idea seemed to strike her and she sat down cross legged and started drawing shapes into the dust on the floor in front of her. Her whispered words reached Scott's ears but the language made no sense to him. He shot a nervous glance at Stiles who was sitting on the ground beside Derek's Camaro. He was also drawing symbols in the dirt and muttering.

Derek also looked between the two and then he looked at Scott and shrugged. "I'm new to this; I have no idea what the hell those two are doing."

A tense silence settled over the wolves and humans as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Scott was the first to move. He turned his head to look out into the trees as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone, or something, coming towards their small little group. He took a deep breath in, searching for the scent on the wind that would tell him what to expect. When his mind finally processed the fact that he smelled another werewolf he grabbed Derek without explanation and dragged him over to Stiles.

"She's somehow calling the rogue werewolf to her." Scott said in a rush. "We have to defend Stiles from it long enough for him to finish the spell."

Understanding and determination crossed Derek's face and he planted himself solidly between Stiles and the line of trees. "Tell me how to take down a werewolf." He commanded Scott.

"Well," It was obvious Scott hadn't really thought that far ahead, "you would need special bullets. I don't carry any because I just fight with my claws and teeth. "He flashed a pointed canine to prove his point.

"I've got some." Stiles interjected. "My gun is loaded with silvers. Take it, Derek."

"Shouldn't you be paying attention to what you're doing and not to us?" Derek asked in exasperation at the same time that he leaned down and took Stiles' gun from its holster.

"Multi-tasking. If I wasn't capable of it I would have died a long time ago." He replied as his hands continued to flow in intricate patterns through the dirt.

Scott stiffened beside Derek as the werewolf came into view. The older detective raised the gun and trained it on the fast approaching enemy while Scott crouched low and let out a fierce growl. Derek shuddered at the sound; werewolves would definitely take him a bit of getting used to once this was all over. They stood firm as the creature barreled towards them and they stared in confusion as it ran right on past. It hadn't even glanced at them on its way.

They spun to watch it as it instead approached the building with the Darach still trapped inside. The wolf bent down but by the time any of them realized what he was doing it was too late. The rogue dragged a claw through the fine line of powder surrounding the warehouse and a wave of power crashed out of the circle as it was broken. The force of it threw the wolf across the clearing where he hit a tree with a sickening thud. Derek and Scott were knocked off their feet and they scrambled back up as quickly as they could. Stiles still sat cross legged on the ground and seemed to have not even noticed the surge of power. The only change in him was the speed with which he was working on the spell.

Stiles took a few precious seconds away from chanting to whisper, "Stall her," under his breath. He trusted that Scott had heard him and he returned dutifully to his work.

Moments later Jennifer came striding out of the warehouse with a radiant smile on her face. "I knew he would come in handy at some point." She mused to herself as she took in the crumpled werewolf at the base of a tree. "Shame that breaking the spell seems to have killed him. Looks like I will need a new one." She focused on Scott and asked, "You interested? I would make you the same offer I made him. I will give you the power of ten Alphas if you will serve me."

"Even if I was interested in that kind of power, which I'm not, I would still turn you down. I don't get the feeling you are the kind to keep your word."

"Oh, but I do. He had all the power he desired. If anything, he had more power than I promised him. Truly the only thing I lied about was what exactly it meant to serve me. I may have implied that he would still possess some semblance of free will. Of course, if he had free will he would have never been willing to break a powerful spell like that. Really free will is a pesky thing to allow your servants to have."

Derek spoke up then, "If he had no free will at all then why has he been going around attacking people?"

Jennifer laughed, "It kept you all busy didn't it? I had your silly police force running all over town trying to track down two different criminals at once. Better yet, everyone went to great lengths to keep you in the dark about a lot of things so they expended a lot of energy maintaining their lies. Energy they should have been focusing on finding me. It's touching that Stiles didn't want you involved, but stupid really, because all he did was give me the opportunity to kill more people."

"Scott." Stiles murmured so quietly that only the werewolf would hear it. "I need you and Derek to get out of the way in 3..." The smell of Stiles blood hit Scott's nose as the young mage dragged a knife across his palm. "2…" Ms. Blake's eyes narrowed and she took a step closer as she tried to figure out what Stiles was up to. "1..." Jennifer cursed under her breath and threw a wave of power directly at Stiles. "NOW!"

Scott dove towards Derek, flinging them both to the ground. Stiles slammed his bleeding hand down onto the rune patterns that decorated the earth surrounding him. Energy crackled in the air and as the Darach's attack reached Stiles he let out a relieved smile. Her power collided violently with his and within seconds everything she had thrown at him was engulfed in Stiles' own swirling vortex of energy. The space around Stiles pulsed with light and he softly whispered a few words into the air and with a final brief hand motion the light started to dim until it faded away completely.

Derek stared open-mouthed at the display. Stiles sat in the dirt, legs crossed and dirt smudged on his face – looking young and innocent – and yet he had just filled an entire clearing with magic. The air still crackled with leftover energy all around him. It wasn't the first time Derek had seen proof of Stiles' strength and bravery, but it was certainly the most obvious example.

"I don't know what you think you just did," Jennifer snarled, "But I assure you it won't work a second time."

"It doesn't have to." Stiles answered. "You are already defeated." With a quick nod to Scott, Stiles stood up and brushed the dirt of his pants.

Scott cautiously approached her, still wary that she may have more power left than Stiles thought. When she tried to fling him into the side of the warehouse and all he felt was a light breeze, Scott became more confident. He pulled his handcuffs from his belt and snapped them onto her wrists with finality.

"What did you do?" She screeched at Stiles.

"I drained all the extra power you stole by killing people. You are now as weak as you were before your first murder. In fact at the moment you are even weaker than that because you used so much power trying to attack me. You are completely and utterly drained. Given time, you will get stronger again, at least to the point that you were before you slaughtered any innocent people, but you will be in a cell long before that happens. Not just any cell. Deaton is down at the station right now drawing up plans with my father for a special cell. The walls will be laced with mistletoe with a few other choice ingredients to keep you contained. The same ingredients in fact that we used in the barrier. Of course, this time they will be imbedded in solid concrete so it will be a bit more permanent than some dust." Stiles smiled sweetly at her as Scott led her towards his cruiser.

Once she was situated in the back-seat, Scott waved to Derek and Stiles and called out, "I'll see you guys back at the station."

Stiles watched the car pull away and start the trek back down the winding dirt road.

"You're still bleeding." Derek said quietly as he came up behind him.

"Huh? Oh, that." Stiles glanced down at his hand unconcerned. "It's nothing."

"It's covered in dirt. You'll get an infection."

Stiles stared into space for a moment with confusion on his face. He seemed to slowly connect the dots in his head until he turned to face Derek with a smile, "You're worried about me." He said with certainty. "If you're worried about me it must mean you haven't decided to hate me for keeping all this from you." He gestured around the clearing to indicate everything that they had just witnessed. The dead werewolf still slumped over just outside the tree-line made his point all the more clear.

Derek met Stiles' eyes and replied him, "Did you think I was going to hate you? I'm not happy that you lied to me, but I understand why you did it. If I had a secret like this, one that I knew could easily get you killed, I would have lied about it to you in heart-beat."

Derek realized then how closely they were standing. He felt the heat radiating from Stiles and he could feel his breath brushing across his face. Stiles seemed to realize their proximity at the same time; his eyes widened and he quickly backed up a step as his face turned red.

"Sorry." He breathed out. "I didn't mean to get all up in your personal space. Actually I'm also sorry about holding your hand on the way here. I think the near-death experience kind of freaked me out a bit. I know you said you didn't want to be with me like that. Which makes sense. I totally get it. I lied to you a lot. I am doing my best to respect that you don't want a relationship with me. You've had enough lying in your life to be pretty fed up with it by now and you shouldn't get involved with someone you can't trust. Not that I'm planning on lying to you again or anything. I'm just rambling now and I'm sorry about that too. I'm sorry about a lot of things. You can just get a new partner if you want. I'm sure if we talked to my dad he would let you work with Isaac and I could work with Scott. Just, please don't leave Beacon Hills because things are awkward between us. Don't leave just because your partner was stupid and untrustworthy."

"Stiles," Derek interrupted. "I would trust you with my life."

"I know, I'm a horrible person. I'm sorry I messed everything up. I'm sorry I made you hate me. I'm sor- wait what?"

"I told you I couldn't be with you because of all the lies. Now, I finally know what you were hiding from me and I truly do understand why you chose to hide it. Looking back, honestly, I could have handled everything better. You were clearly already pressed beyond your limits in every way and I came in demanding answers and pushing you away because I was angry that you wouldn't give them. Then you got captured, you almost got killed, and I thought that I had lost you." Derek was quiet for a moment as he remembered the fear lancing through him as he had approached Stiles in the bank, still unsure if he was alive. "I realized then that I really didn't care about the lies as long as you were still alive. Then you told me the truth anyway and I was left wondering why I had tried so hard to ignore my feelings. I don't know if you still want me, but if I haven't completely shoved you away I want you to know that I am in love with you."

Stiles gaped at him. "Are you serious?" A huge grin split his face when Derek nodded. "Hell yes!"

Derek stumbled back a step as Stiles' weight crashed into him when the younger man propelled himself at him, wrapping his arms around Derek happily. Derek smiled softly as his own arms came up to wrap around Stiles. Warmth swelled in him as he finally let himself relax and acknowledge that they had all survived. _Stiles_ had survived.

He pulled away from Stiles just far enough that Stiles looked up at him curiously. Comprehension dawned on him as Derek leaned closer, slowly, non-verbally asking permission from Stiles before he made the final move.

Stiles made it for him, he crossed the gap between them and met Derek's lips with his own. Derek wasn't sure what he was getting himself into by starting a relationship with Stiles, but something told him they were going to be just fine.


End file.
